It's a Wonderful Life
by Fierce Kitten
Summary: It's Canada's birthday and America still manages to upstage him. But when Canada wishes America was never born, a miracle happens - his wish comes true. But will Canada find himself wishing he never wished his brother away?
1. Chapter 1: Cain and Able

It's a Wonderful Life

Chapter One: Cain and Able

Canada's birthday was supposed to be special. He wasn't supposed to spend it … like that.

Everything had been going fine at first; Cuba arrived, and then Ukraine (*sigh*… Ukraine….) Things only really started to go wrong when England arrived.

"America, I didn't know you were already here."

A vein pulsed in Canada's forehead. Well, at least he remembered that it was Canada's birthday and not America's. The practically invisible nation stepped aside to let his father in.

"Actually, Dad… it's Canada…."

England covered his mouth with his hand and closed his eyes. "I am so sorry, Canada…." He said, walking over the threshold. "Really, you and he just –"

"Look alike, I know."

"Are you kidding me?" said France's voice from behind England. The Frenchman pushed England forward so that he may also enter the house. "They don't look a thing alike! Canada was blessed with _my_ hair! America wasn't! Actually … America didn't even get _your_ hair… he looks more like Finland…."

The two began to squabble and Canada closed his front door. Family gatherings… yay… (sarcasm). Canada could feel the first migraine of the evening coming long before England began cussing his ex-lover out.

"He does not look like Finland! America is _my_ son! And I didn't cheat on you! Not that _you_ can say the same!"

"What? It's my nature!"

"Yeah, just like it was your 'nature' to take _his_ side during his little rebellion!"

"Oh, don't give me that! You're the one who -!"

Most arguments started like this, or at least ended like it. Canada was getting tired of hearing them talk about how France sided with America… or how France was a pervert… It was getting old.

And it was _Canada's_ birthday.

"H-hey, guys?" Canada said, twitching, "Can we, uh, not talk about, um… past affairs?"

England snapped out of his angry rampage. "Oh, I'm sorry, Canada. It's your birthday; we shouldn't be arguing."

Damn right.

England spotted Ukraine and, being absolutely terrified of her brother, decided it was best to find a spot to sit farthest away from her. France, on the other hand, took a seat right next to her. Canada frowned, and sat on France's other side to prevent him from saying something too perverted.

Of course, China had to bring Hong Kong over. Hong Kong and Canada weren't 'close', per se, but Hong Kong valued family and Canada was his half brother. Besides, he would always listen when Canada would talk… or maybe he wasn't really listening. You could never truly tell with Hong Kong.

"Hi, America aru…." China said when Canada opened the door. Canada's eye twitched.

"Happy Birthday, Canada…." Hong Kong said, handing Canada a box full of firecrackers. China blushed, realizing his (and everyone else's) mistake. Canada smiled at the two, accepting the box, and letting them inside.

"I-I'm so sorry, Canada aru…." China began to apologize.

"No… I'm… used to it…."

Seychelles arrived not long after, glomping her big brother. She handed him a giant fish before running off to glomp their favorite father: France. England wasn't _practically_ pushed aside… he _was_ pushed aside.

"Seychelles!" he complained, "What's wrong with you? You, Sealand, Canada… will you lot stop trying to copy your brother America? He's an idiot!"

Of course… things always went back to America….

Seychelles stuck her tongue out at England. Canada sighed.

Next came Sealand and his adoptive parents, Finland and Sweden.

"Hi America!" Finland said. Canada felt to his knees, not looking at the trio.

"It's… Canada… Ca-Na-Da…"

Finland blushed. "Oh, I… I'm so sorry, Canada…." Sweden just nodded.

"Cheer up!" Sealand said, wrapping his little arms around Canada, "It's your birthday!"

So why does everyone think it was America's?

England tried glaring at Finland and Sweden, but only ended up sighing. "H-hello, Sealand…"

"Hi, Bastard England!"

England sighed again. "Just like his big brother…."

Canada stood up. "I am nothing like that!"

England gave Canada an um-uh-that-is-I-didn't-mean… look and Canada understood. America. America… again….

It's always America!

"Oh… I… get it…." Canada said through gritted teeth. He gave a fake smile to Finland and Sweden. Sweden crossed his arms, a small pout on his lips. Obviously, he was still in a mood after Toronto beat Stockholm in gay pride*. But hey, he wasn't going to keep Sealand away from his brother just because of that.

"Please have a seat, Finland… Sweden…" Canada said, gesturing to the living room. China quickly grabbed Finland and started up a conversation with the smaller nation and Sweden sat and listened to the conversation.

As Canada was about to sit down, the phone rang. Thinking it was probably Egypt who had yet to arrive (though, by God, if Egypt could hold a phone conversation, Canada was America's 51st state […which he isn't…]) he went to the kitchen and picked up the phone.

"Hello? Bonjour?" Canada said into the phone.

"Hi, America! Sorry! I can't make it to your birthday on the fourth! I just wanted to say happy birthday!" said the voice of Spain.

Canada's teeth gritted together. He calmed himself and then said in the happiest possible voice: "I'm sorry Spain, but this is Canada."

"Oops. Wrong number." And without wishing Canada a happy birthday, the Spanish nation hung up. Canada sighed, kicking the stove before hanging up the phone. Unexpectedly, the phone rang again before Canada could even get out of the kitchen. Canada sighed and picked it up.

"Hello? Bonjour?"

"Hi America! This is Italy! Um, Germany and I can't make it to your birthday party this year…. I was just letting you know!"

Canada sighed. "Um, Italy? It's… Canada…"

"Eeeeeeeh? I'm so sorry Canada! I didn't mean to! Um… uh… um… I'm SORRY! DON'T BE MAD!"

Canada forced a laugh, trying to calm Italy down. "It's okay, Italy… Really, England calls thinking I'm America all the time…" Which was annoying….

"Oh, um… well, I'm sorry, Canada…"

"It's alright…"

"Um, it's just…."

"Yes?"

"Who are you, exactly?"

Canada sighed. "America's brother."

"Oh… do you have his phone number?"

"Yes…."

After setting Italy straight, Canada hung up the phone, feeling a little worse for wear. By some strange twist of fate, the phone rang… again…

"Hello? Bonjour?"

"Spain you damned bastard! Seriously! _I'M_ calling him back, you son of a -!"

"Hello?"

"Oh! Hi, this is Romano."

Canada raised an eyebrow. "Hello, Romano. I was just talking to your brother."

"Why were you-? Oh, never mind! I was calling about that bastard Spain! I'm sorry he just hung up on you like that. It's wasn't nice."

"It's fine…"

"Anyway, uh… so, who are you?"

Canada hung the phone up without answering Romano.

In a completely stupid way, the phone rang once again! Canada debated actually answering it, but then decided he better.

"Hello?" he asked tiredly.

"Like, heeeey, America~! This is, like, totally Poland. I'm calling to see if you, like, know were Lithuania is. Russia told me he wasn't home, ya know? So is he, like, at your house?"

Canada mumbled something about not being America and hung up the phone. It rang again and Canada picked it up, shouting "What?" into the speaker.

"Hey, America! It's -!"

Canada hung up the phone and disconnected it.

Seething, Canada grabbed a glass from the cabinet and poured himself some whiskey. Canada didn't drink much, but he figured it was about time he took a leaf out of his father's book.

Why was everything about _America_? America wasn't so great! Canada knew him best! And Canada knew that America was selfish, rude, disloyal, disrespectful, obnoxious, abrupt, flashy, sulky, tacky, arrogant, snobbish, lazy, wasteful, ignorant, insensitive, and brainless! Just to name a few! And Canada …

Couldn't … couldn't … _STAND HIM!_

It was around the time that Canada swigged down the whiskey that the doorbell rang. He began walking toward the door, but apparently Ukraine had answered.

"Oh! Mr. America!"

And any sanity Canada had left was gone.

Canada marched into the entry hall. America had bent over to whisper something in Ukraine's ear, something that made her go pink and shake her head.

"No, no! Not yet!"

"America…." Canada said threateningly, shoulder's trembling.

America looked up, not sensing the ominous feeling radiating from his brother. His blue eyes lit up behind his glasses, smile brightening.

"Hey, Cana-!"

"Get out."

The entire atmosphere seemed to change with those two words. Everyone stopped what they were doing, and turned to look at the trio in the hallway. England stood up.

"Mattie, what is the matter with you? It's your brother!"

France rolled his eyes. "This coming from the man who was dreading seeing America today. Weren't you actually debating not coming so you could avoid seeing him?"

Canada rolled his hands into fists.

"Get. Out."

America looked hurt. Almost nobody could resist America's hurt face, cute and huggable as it was. But Canada didn't see that. All the larger nation could see was his more powerful brother, who always upstaged him, always got all the attention, always caused him trouble, always - !

"Mattie?" America asked in a tiny voice.

And something in Canada snapped.

"_GET OUT_!" he roared at his twin, shoving him into the door. America looked quite taken aback. "Get the _HELL _OUT of my_ HOUSE_! I can't _stand_ to look at your face! I _HATE_ you!"

The room was quiet for a second. Just a second.

"Canada!" France chastised, "Your brother came all this way to pay you a visit on your birthday. You can't just turn him away now! Tell him you're sorry!"

"What's gotten into you, Canada?" England joined in, defending the offending brother, "America hasn't done anything to you in years!"

"Mattie?" Ukraine asked in a tiny voice, "America didn't do anything wrong…."

Canada couldn't believe his ears. They – including _England_ of all people – were defending the bastard! Canada gritted his teeth, shoved America away from the door, and yanked it open.

"Fine! _FINE_! If that's the way it is…!" Canada never finished his sentence. He chose to instead slam the door hard behind him, leaving everyone staring at him, thunderstruck, inside. He whirled around and stomped down his sidewalk.

"I hate him!" Canada yelled, anger and frustration building up in his chest, coming to an irate boil, "I _HATE_ HIM! I WISH…! I WISH HE WAS NEVER BORN!"

"Are you sure?" said a tiny voice to Canada's right. Canada stumbled over his feet, and fear clutched at his chest. For a second, he thought it was Russia, but then the part of his brain that wasn't boiling with anger processed that the voice was female. He turned to look at the speaker.

A tiny girl with glittering gold wings hovered in the air next to Canada. Her skin was green, but her hair was as golden as her wings and it fell past her shoulders down to her ankles. Her eyes were a mesmerizing purple.

A fairy….

Well, he _was_ England's son.

"…Who are you?" Canada asked.

"Hnnn? My name is Star. I am here to grant your wish. Are you sure?"

Canada stared at the fairy named Star. "Sure… about what?"

Star smiled. "You said you wished your brother was never born. Are you sure?"

Canada looked at the fairy. He pictured America's face in his mind, smiling and ungodly annoying. Anger bubbled back up in his chest, and his eyes burned with fury.

"_Yes_. I _wish_ he was never _born_!"

The fairy seemed to contemplate this. She floated up to his face, and smiled at him. "Okay." She tapped his nose, and green sparks flew. Canada was mesmerized by the lights.

_Like the Fourth of July fireworks Alfred is so fond of…_ Canada thought. It was his last thought before he lost all consciousness.

(Author Note: Story is not finished! Please wait for the next chapter! I started this chapter on Canada Day, and ironically enough finished it on the eve of the Fourth of July. Please review! I love reviews~!)

***In 2009, Toronto (A city in the Canadian state of Ontario) beat out Stockholm (a city in Sweden) by garnering 78% of the votes at an Inter Pride conference in St. Petersburg Florida (*snort* Um… America? Holding a pride conference in… Florida? Of all the states available… **_**Florida**_**? *giggle*)**


	2. Chapter 2: A Dream

Chapter Two: A Dream

Canada woke up with a headache. He didn't even want to open his eyes, it was so bad, but he told himself he should get up and get some painkillers. So the nation sucked it up and opened his violet eyes, sitting up in bed.

Of course, he hadn't been expecting to see the room America used to sleep in when they were kids. At least… he thought it was America's old room…. It was a large room, the same size that America's had been (and – Canada might add – about twice as big as Canada's old room). There were five walls, just like the bedroom the super power used to inhabit, and the circular window was also on the back wall, just like in Alfred's old room. But… something was different…

A lot of things were different.

Two crisscrossed hockey sticks were mounted on the wall that used to house Alfred's cowboy hat rack. A poster of a polar bear hung over the bed, and the bedding itself had a beaver print. There was a little bed in the corner, where Kumajirou was currently sleeping.

Canada sat up, confused. First of all, why was he in England's house? Second of all… what happened to Alfred's room?

Canada slipped out of bed and walked over to the full-length mirror by the door. The Matthew Williams that looked back at him was in his nightclothes (a red and white, maple leaf pattered pair of two-piece pajamas), blond hair disheveled. He looked over at Kumajirou, who was still sleeping soundly in his basket.

"…Did Dad grab a pair of my pajamas from home? I wonder if he got any of my other clothes…."

Canada hurried over to the dresser and pulled it open. An array of his own clothes was inside, folded neat and clean. …Okay… so… England completely raided his closet and put all his clothes in America's old chest of drawer…. That… makes… absolutely no sense.

Canada looked back at himself in the mirror, and then quickly pulled out a pair of clothes. He slipped into his khaki pants and red sweater before slowly creeping out of his room.

Yes. This was England's house. Canada stood in the same hallway he'd always stood in when he was a child. The same stupid photographs hung on the walls, with the same old furniture, and the same _really_ old paint job… but something felt different. Odd.

Canada crept down the steps. They creaked with age under his weight. He heard voices down stairs in the kitchen.

"Daddy? Papa?" Canada asked. He turned the corner and entered the kitchen; sure enough, England and France were sitting at the kitchen table. England was holding a news paper with the hand that wasn't occupied with a teacup, a pair of reading glasses snug on his nose. France had a croissant filled with bacon and eggs in one hand; he turned to look at Canada as his child entered the kitchen.

"Matthew," he said, taking a bite out of his breakfast, "Good morning. You're up early."

Canada shuffled his feet. "Um… h-hey, Dad… Papa… I'm sorry you had to take me home from… uh…" Canada's birthday party? What had happened anyway? He had passed out… he knew that…. "Er… is America mad at me?" Why wouldn't he be? He'd told the idiot he hated him…. Damned-able flatliner*probably thought he was the victim…

"…Who?" England asked, taking a sip from his tea.

Canada stared at him. "America. My… brother? Your _favorite_ son? The big idiot below me?"

England and France both stared at Canada. England set down his news paper.

"Canada… Mexico is not one of my children… nor is he your brother…."

Canada's jaw dropped. "You've got to be kidding me. I'm not talking about _Mexico_, I'm talking about _America_. My _twin_ brother. The guy _above_ Mexico."

England and France both looked perfectly alarmed. They stood up and France hurried over to Canada, putting a hand on his forehead.

"Well, you're not running a temperature… Are you okay? No one's above Mexico but you and a lot of water."

"Do you… _want_ a twin brother?" England asked skeptically, "Because… I'm not sure there's much we can do about that…."

Canada stared at England.

"He's hallucinating," France said flatly, "He gets it from you, Mr. I-See-Fairies!"

"_HEY_! Fairies exist! I'm telling you!"

Fairies….

In a rush, yesterday's events came rushing back to Canada. The green and gold fairy named Star. His wish that America was never born…

Oh. My. God.

His wish came true.

America… was never born….

Canada stood in complete silence for a moment, taking in the information. His parents – _both_ his parents – were concerned for him, because he was hallucinating about having a brother. A brother he doesn't have any more. A brother he, apparently, never had to begin with in this world – wherever this world was. America didn't exist. At all.

Canada's lip, which had previously been sporting an 'o' shape, curled into a smile.

Awesome.

Canada slapped his forehead. "Oops! Oh, jeez, I'm sorry Daddy, Papa! You see, I had this really weird dream where I had this super _annoying_ twin brother named America."

England visibly calmed down. "Oh, Canada, you scared me for a minute there."

"Yeah, don't make us think you're losing your marbles like your dad," France cut in. England glared at him.

"France," he warned, "Shut up."

And, to Canada's surprise, France shut up.

"Was it a good dream?" England asked Canada. Canada rolled his eyes.

"Hardly. He was _so_ annoying! Not to mention everyone mistook me for him. And he was a big fat jerk. And an idiot. And -!"

"Woah, Canada! You're getting a little overly emotional over a dream!" France stroked Canada's hair soothingly, "Calm, my child."

Canada sighed, enjoying the attention. "Anyway… that dream…" an almost evil sort of smile crept onto Canada's face, thinking about it, "is over…"

England smiled and France hugged Canada. "There, there, that's right. The big bad dream is over now. Why don't you sit down and have a croissant."

Canada gladly joined his fathers at the table. France handed him a croissant, which Canada gladly bit into. Obviously, France had made it, as Canada wasn't gagging. His parents began discussing world affairs. Well… mostly England was talking; France nodded a lot and made a few comments, but he didn't seem all that interested. England sipped his tea, going on and on about financial problems. Canada just listened, enjoying the America-free conversation, until he heard the name of another brother of his.

"And to top it all off, Hong Kong is still insisting upon _bowing_ to people. I keep telling him to shake hands, but he'll only do that _after_ he bows to them first. It's really frustrating!"

France laughed at this. "Kind of like how Matthew insisted upon speaking French?"

Canada smirked at France. "Je t'aime, Papa."**

"Moi aussi, je t'aime, Canada," France replied patting his head.***

England banged his hand down on the table loudly, making Canada jump. "Will you two stop speaking in bloody _French_? I can't bloody _understand_ you! Speak! _English_!"

"Calm down, Daddy!" Canada said, reaching over and holding England's hand, "It was just a little bit! Sheesh! What's got your gitches**** in a bunch?"

England rolled his eyes at the non-British slang, but let it pass. He held Canada's hand, gently rubbing the top of it with his thumb. France looked very annoyed, but held his tongue.

"I cannot tell France not to speak French, but please Canada, speak English for your old dad, please?"

It sounded more like a command than a request, which was annoying, but Canada relented. "_Fine_…. How _is_ Hong Kong lately? He didn't talk much at the party." England raised an eye brow and opened his mouth.

SIZZLE! CRACK! CRACK _CRACK_! BANG! SNAP! CRACKLE! POP! BANG! _**BANG**_!

The house shook with the explosive and Canada jumped under the table for fear of an attack. England jumped, spilt his tea, and cursed like a sailor. France didn't even react.

"…Ask him yourself," England growled at Canada, grabbing a napkin off the table and blotting at his now ruined shirt. France rolled his eyes.

"He's your son. You're not even used to his 'alarm clock'?"

"Shut. Up."

And France shut up.

Canada crawled out from under the table, realizing they were not under attack, Hong Kong had just set off firecrackers. "Hong Kong's here?"

England raised an eyebrow. "Of course your brother's here. Where else would he be?"

"Um…" Canada raised an eyebrow back, "China's?"

And for the first time, Canada realized something wasn't right. England gave Canada a quizzical look, almost wary.

"…Why the bloody hell would he be at China's?"

Before Canada could reply, a sleepy Hong Kong shuffled into the room, rubbing at his dark brown eyes.

"Good morning, Father…. France…." He said, nodding to England and France.

"Good morning, Hong Kong," Canada said.

"For the love of _God_, Hong Kong!" England snapped at the tired nation, "_What_ have I _told_ you about lighting _firecrackers_ _in the house_?"

Hong Kong didn't reply. He reached into the cupboard for a packet of black tea and began preparing milk tea for himself.*****

England sighed, and left the room to change his shirt. "France!" he yelled back, "Get ready for the World Meeting!"

"There's a World Meeting today?" Canada asked. France nodded. Canada smiled.

"Okay. I'll go get ready!" he stood up to change into his military uniform, but paused at the confused look from France.

"What are you getting ready for?" France asked, "Sealand's not a baby anymore. You don't have to put child locks on everything before we leave…."

Canada blinked at him. "I'm… getting into my military uniform… to go to the World Meeting…."

France raised an eyebrow. "…You must have had… a very nice dream."

Canada blinked again. France stood up and hugged Canada, who didn't hug him back. "Are you okay, sweetie?" he asked, rubbing Canada's back. Canada didn't reply, the implication of France's statement sinking in.

"W-wait…" he said, gently pulling away from France, "I'm… I'm not…?" his voice dropped, "…independent…?"

France looked at him like one might a silly child. "Of course not, Canada. Were you one in your dream? I don't think Daddy would want to hear that~"

Canada's head spun. Not an independent nation…. It was… impossible. Canada _earned_ his independence! He did it in a civil, non-violent manner. He asked England and they worked together to send Canada into the world on his own and - !

…Why did he ask for independence?

Canada tried to remember what made him want to be separate from England. Yes, England ignored him and he wanted to make his own decisions… but Canada didn't like conflict, and he never had to guts to actually ask… not for a long time…. What had made him ask?

"_Canada!" a mud splattered, uniformed America had shouted all those years ago. His hair was ruffled, there was blood on his uniform, and he looked a right mess, and yet there was a light to America's blue eyes that Canada had never seen before. "I'm not Alfred Kirkland anymore! You have to call me Alfred Jones!" _

_Canada had just stared at his rebellious brother, hugging Kumajirou. "What the hell are you talking about, idiot?" _

_And America smiled. With the happiest, most bell-like tone Canada ever heard his voice make, he told him: "I'm independent! I am the United States of America!"_

Oh… that was it. Canada could just see America's face, bright and shinning with the kind of joy only independence could bring a new nation. It had given Canada the courage to at least try….

Of course, that was also the first time America blurted out that stupid "I'M THE HERO!" bullshit. Oh, not to mention not long after that he _invaded _Canada. Thought he was _helping_. "_Break away from that bastard England_," he said. "_Become America's 14__th__ state_," he said. Oh, _GOD_, Canada hated him! He hated him! He hated him so much!

"Canada?" France asked, breaking Canada out of his memories, "Are you okay?"

"Yeah, Papa… I'm fine."

France ruffled his hair and kissed his forehead. "That's my boy."

Canada smiled a bit. France always had a way of making him feel better. Maybe it wasn't so bad being one with England again… After all, he only separated from him because he was being ignored… and now he wasn't being ignored anymore... Canada looked over at Hong Kong.

Canada had never seen any real emotion pass over his brother's face aside from indifference. That was not the case in this moment. As France kissed his forehead and babied Canada, Hong Kong watched from his spot by the counter. A look of pain was scrawled across his usually stoic face. His lip trembled with sadness, his eyes scrunched up with longing. His hand trembled on the teacup.

"…Hong Kong?" Canada asked.

Hong Kong looked away quickly, adopting an unfeeling expression on his face. He poured his milk tea without a word. France looked back at him, and a sympathetic expression crossed the Frenchman's face. He exited the kitchen, patting Hong Kong's head as he passed.

"Hang in there, buddy."

Hong Kong paused in his pouring. He didn't reply, but Canada could see the deep frown his lips made, the flash on bitterness in his face. France's hand slipped off Hong Kong's head as he kept walking and the Asian's hair fell back into place. The kitchen door closed behind France and Hong Kong kept pouring the tea.

Canada slowly approached Hong Kong and gently put a hand on his shoulder. "Are you okay, Hong Kong? Did something happen between you and Papa?" Though, if something did happen, Canada wasn't sure he wanted to know….

Hong Kong glanced at Canada and simply shook his head, taking his tea into his hands and sipping it. Canada watched him and smiled. The way Hong Kong held the cup…

"You know, you drink just like China..."

It was like Canada had said "I know you stole from Mummy's purse." The cup slipped from Hong Kong's careful hands and the Asian whirled around to face Canada, an uncharacteristic panicked look in his eyes. He grabbed Canada by the arm with one hand and covered the blonde's mouth with the other.

"Shut up!" he hissed at Canada, "I do not! You lie! You're just trying to get me in trouble!"

Canada tried to reply, but the younger of the two brothers had his hand firmly pressed against Canada's mouth.

"Don't tell England! You can't tell England! Please! Don't!" Hong Kong begged, desperation clear in his eyes. He looked terrified, like a child afraid of being scolded….

Which he might have been.

Canada gently grabbed Hong Kong's hand and moved it away from his mouth. "I… won't tell."

Hong Kong sighed and let go of Canada. He stared at his feet for a long moment before bowing to Canada.

"I'm sorry, Canada Dai Gou Gou******."

"Hey, it's cool…." Canada said, patting Hong Kong's shoulder. Hong Kong glanced up at Canada.

"…Canada Dai Gao Gao?"

"Eh?"

"…How do you know Baba China?"*******

Canada stared at Hong Kong.

"Uh… you know… eh-heh…"

Hong Kong stared back at Canada. He blinked at the older nation before picking up his cup from the floor. Without a word he grabbed a cloth and mopped up the mess he made, glancing up at his half-brother.

"E-eh…." Canada mumbled, not sure what to say. Things were different in this world.

"Good morning, Canada!" Seychelles greeted, running into her big brother's arms. Sealand came behind her, rubbing sleep from his eyes.

"Morning, Seychelles… Sealand…" Canada murmured.

"Oh, good!" England said, poking his head into the kitchen, "You're all awake. France and I are going to the World Meeting. Canada is in charge. Behave. No leaving the house."

The door closed. Canada made a move to go with them, then remembered that he wasn't a nation anymore.

_Well… not like I ever had much of a voice at World Meetings…._

He heard the car being cranked up and soon the sound of it driving away. Almost as soon as Canada was sure their parents were gone, Seychelles and Sealand seemed to deem them long gone as well, seeing as they both aimed rude gestures at the door.

"I hope Switzerland shoots you!"

"Burn in hell!"

Seychelles took off her cobalt blue slipper and threw it at the door, stomping her now bare foot. Hong Kong didn't join the tantrums of his half siblings, but Canada thought he saw the glimmer of a smile on his face. This surprised Canada; he was used to this kind of behavior from Seychelles and Sealand… but Hong Kong loved England.

"…wait…" Canada paused, "…What uniform was Daddy wearing?"

When England had poked his head in, Canada hadn't gotten a good look at his uniform… but he knew it wasn't his normal green uniform. It was… red. It had a red coat, or so the collar implied.

"His normal uniform," said Seychelles bitterly, running a hand through her dark hair.

"No it wasn't," Canada insisted, "His normal uniform is green. That uniform isn't."

Seychelles raised an eyebrow. "There's not a speck of green on his pirate uniform. What are you talking about, Canada?"

It was like Canada was punched in the stomach. Pirate? Daddy England was still a pirate? How could that be?

"I don't understand…." Canada murmured.

Seychelles rolled her eyes. "What don't you understand? There is no green on that uniform-"

"No, I mean…" Canada looked at Hong Kong and Sealand desperately, "D-Daddy isn't a pirate anymore…. He hasn't been in a long time…."

His trio of siblings stared at him. It was like he had fairies crawling out of his ears…. Of course, they were England's kids, so if there really were fairies crawling out of his ears, they would probably be able to see them. But no fairies. Just three siblings staring at their big brother like he was crazy.

"Canada, you're acting weird today," Sealand said, climbing onto the counter. Canada didn't reply for a minute; he just scratched the back of his head, looking embarrassed.

"I… had a really vivid dream last night and I… I'm still trying to sort out reality from fantasy…"

Seychelles snorted. "Sounds like a pretty good dream if that bastard England got knocked down off his high horse."

Canada blushed, looking at his feet. Seychelles's sharp brown eyes focused on Canada, and she held up a fist.

"And if you tell him I said that, Daddy's Boy, I'm going to kick your sorry ass halfway to Russia's."

Canada paled considerably. "Why would I tell him that? No need to threaten me with Russia! Damn, Seychelles, I thought we were friends!"

This seemed to catch Seychelles off guard. They all stared at him for a little bit, before Seychelles put her fist down.

"…Did you hit your head or something, Matthew?" Seychelles asked. Canada shook his head.

"…Weirdo!" Seychelles ran out of the room, and Canada could hear her going up the stairs. Sealand hopped off the counter and followed her.

"…Hong Kong… can I ask you something?" Canada asked. Hong Kong looked at Canada and hesitantly nodded.

"…What am I supposed to do?" Canada asked, embarrassed. Hong Kong raised an eyebrow. "I mean… my dream has me really confused…. And Daddy England put me in charge and… well…" Canada blushed, "I don't remember what being in charge entails…"

Hong Kong stared at him for a long moment. He slowly approached Canada, and asked "Does your head hurt you, Canada Dai Gao Gao?"

Canada shook his head. "I'm not sick, Hong Kong…."

Hong Kong looked closely at Canada before sighing. "It must have been a very realistic dream, Canada. You're supposed to feed us, man the house, make sure we don't go anywhere, and…" Hong Kong gritted his teeth, "report back to… Father England… if anything goes wrong."

"Ah, like if there's a kitchen fire?"

Hong Kong raised his bushy eyebrow a tiny bit. "And not burn down the house." Canada smiled, and laughed nervously.

"Right. Thanks Hong Kong." Canada smiled at his brother. Hong Kong stared at him.

"What was the dream?"

Canada flinched. "Well… uh… I had this brother named America," Canada sighed, "and he was really, really, really, _really_ annoying. And we looked a lot alike, and people were always mistaking me for him…. And he was a real pain in the rear, and only ever caused me trouble – "

"What happened to Father England in it?"

Canada blushed. "Well, um… it was just a dream…." Hong Kong's impassive eyes bore into Canada's violet ones until he continued. "A-America won his independence from him and stuff… and he was kind of a drunkard… but he was still Daddy, and even if we all left him, we still loved him… except for maybe Sealand, but legally he was still Daddy's after all…."

Hong Kong seemed fascinated by this. "We… as in… all of us?"

Canada nodded. "Yeah. America and I were independent. And Seychelles became independent in 1976… You weren't independent, but you were with China –" Hong Kong caught his breath. His eyes had lit up considerably. They unfocused, as if he was dreaming of a place far, far away.

"…Hong Kong?"

Hong Kong snapped out of his dream-like state and focused on Canada. "…That's some dream you had… Not to mention rebellious."

Canada shrugged. "Not really. It… it was just a dream, and I'm nothing like America. He's the disloyal jerk who pointed a gun at Daddy. I simply asked for independence."

Hong Kong's eyes softened and his lips became a hard line. "Oh, Canada… as if it was that simple…. You really did have a nice dream – if an impossibly achieved one."

It surprised him how chatty Hong Kong was being; Canada's half brother typically didn't say much. But Hong Kong looked like he wanted to say more right then, despite his already abnormally long period of talking.

Canada took Hong Kong's hand gently. "Hong Kong… Why do you get jumpy whenever China's mentioned?"

Hong Kong pulled his hand away jerkily from Canada's grasp and backed away, a warning look in his eye. He looked to his feet before glancing back up at Canada.

"Remember what I said… Don't you dare tell Father."

And Hong Kong left the room, leaving Canada all by himself. He sighed and sank to the floor.

"Why is everything so different?" he thought out loud. He pouted, thinking about the way his siblings were treating him. Why did it seem like they didn't trust him? He was a good guy! He was the diplomatic one! And they were supposed to be his friends! And…! And…!

Canada took a deep breath. What was he doing? He was supposed to enjoy his new life! No America to bother him – Paradise! He should be having fun!

Canada smiled. He stood up and thought for a minute. What can he do _now_ that he couldn't do with America around?

Like a light bulb going off in his head, it hit him: _relax_.

Canada grinned at the notion. Relaxation had been near _impossible_ with 'The Annoyance' around. If Canada wanted to go on vacation, America would have chosen the worst possible time to decide _he_ wanted a vacation (the same time as Canada) and the worst possible place to take said vacation (the same place Canada chose). If Canada wanted to go to an amusement park, America would have brought his little harem of suitors (all male, by the way) with him to the _same_ amusement park. If Canada so much as sat down in his own living room to watch a freakin' movie, America would pay him a visit and insist on watching with him!

That was it…. He'd watch a movie.

Canada sat down and selected a movie from the stack of tapes at his disposal. It was an old tape, and Canada could remember seeing it with America when he was small. It wasn't all that scary, but it made America piss his diaper. He had clung onto Canada, crying the whole time, pointing to the monster on the screen and screaming "IT'S THE WITCH IN THE BASEMENT!" Of course, the witch America had been referring to was England; America had the misfortune of walking in on one of his Black Magic rituals – emotionally scarred ever since. Canada spent half the movie comforting his twin.

It was _soooooooo_ nice to finally watch it without the blubbering buffoon. Canada could finally appreciate the acting of the British men and women on screen, finally take in the beautiful scenery and cinematography, and finally _hear_ what the hell the actors were saying! It was pure bliss!

"Why are you watching that old movie?" asked a loud voice.

Canada groaned. "_America_, will you please just g-" Canada stopped, and turned around to see Sealand staring at him. "Oh, er… I'm sorry, Sealand. What is it?" Sealand raised an eyebrow.

"You've seen that movie a dozen times before. You said you were sick of it."

"Oh, did I?" Canada laughed, "I don't recall… It's a very good movie…."

Sealand hopped onto the couch next to Canada. "You said the acting was mediocre and then plot was weak."

Canada raised an eyebrow. "Why would I say that?"

"…Because _England_ says that?" Sealand raised an eyebrow and sank down into the couch, "_I_ happen to _like_ this movie."

"Ah. Well…" Canada sighed, "You want to watch with me?" Really, Sealand was a lot like America…. At least he wasn't a scared-y cat. Sealand didn't answer, but put his feet on the coffee table. Canada smiled and ruffled his hair. Sealand made a face and shoved his big brother's hand away.

Canada and Sealand watched the movie in silence. It was nice. Sealand's company was pleasant, and not overbearing (unlike another brother of Canada's, who doesn't exist). There was a bit of a distance between them on the couch, and not the comfortable you-get-that-side-I-get-this-side distance, either. It was more like a purposeful I-don't-want-to-be-too-close-to-you distance. But hey, Canada didn't want someone clutching his arm.

It was near the end of the movie, when Canada was finally feeling at ease, when the doorbell sounded. Canada stood up.

"I've got it!" he said cheerfully. Sealand watched him as he went to the door and opened it.

"Please! Is he home?" asked the desperate-sounding voice of Yao Wang – China. The man looked a mess, long hair in a state, green commie uniform rumpled. The purple color under in almond-shaped eyes implied he hadn't slept right in at least two weeks.

"China!" Canada yelped. Sealand bolted from the couch and ran upstairs.

"Please!" China said, falling to his knees and grabbing at Canada's red sweater. Canada made a flustered noise and grabbed a hold on China.

"Ch-China!" Canada said, trying to pull the ancient nation to his feet, "W-w-w-what's wrong? Get a hold of yourself!"

China was crying into Canada's sweater. He really did look terrible. Canada rubbed his back gently, not sure what to do.

"P-please…." China sobbed, "I just want to see him. Let me see him…."

"Who?" Canada asked. And then it dawned on him: "Hong Kong?"

"_**BABA!**_" Hong Kong came tearing down the steps, followed closely by Sealand and Seychelles. China looked up, tears streaking his dirty face.

"Hong Kong!" China tore himself from Canada's arms – not like Canada was really trying to stop him. He rushed into the house and the two Asians collided, wrapping arms around each other.

"Ngo gua zhu lei!" China murmured over and over again in his son's ear.********

"Ngo oiy ney, Baba!" Hong Kong replied.*********

Canada slowly closed the door and stared at the two. They were acting like they hadn't seen each other in years, both crying and showing more affection than Canada had ever seen the two give anyone. China kissed Hong Kong's forehead repeatedly, holding his baby close. The scene made Canada want to cry, whether because it was so cute it drove him to tears or because they both look so distressed. They held onto each other as if was the last time they'd be able to.

It was… sweet.

Canada was so mesmerized by the father and son that the door suddenly opening caught him off guard. It gave him a good crack to the back of the head, and the North American nation fell to the floor, clutching at his skull.

"Ow-!" Canada complained. Tears welled up in his eyes, and he looked up.

England and France were home. And England was not happy.

His black boots made a loud, ominous noise on the hardwood floor. His red coat fluttered behind him. The rings on his finger glittered like the jewels on the hilt of his sword. And the black hat on his head cast a dangerous shadow on his face, green eyes flashing in the shadow.

"…Daddy?" Canada's voice squeaked. He'd hadn't seen his father in this uniform in a long time; he knew England had once been a pirate, even a long time into his childhood, but… he didn't really wear the uniform around the house. The last time he saw it was the day England brought Canada home from France. It had been scary then; Canada had been a small child, and England was a huge man with a sword at his hip. But England had smiled at Canada, told him he was "British now", and hugged him close.

That wasn't what England was doing now. The English man drew his sword and pointed it at China, who pushed Hong Kong behind him protectively.

"Get out of my house, _chink_."**********

China and Hong Kong stiffened considerably. Canada stared at his father, repulsed at the way he was acting. China stepped a little closer to England, like a frightened animal coming toward a hunter holding kibble.

"Please, England…." China whispered, "Just a little longer…. I only want to visit…!"

England held the sword up higher. "No. I want you out of my house. _Now_."

Looking at England now… it was like looking into the eyes of a monster.

China burst into tears. Hong Kong made a move to comfort his father, but France was a quick thinker. The Frenchman, looking panicked, rushed forward and grabbed Hong Kong, pulling the young Asian away from his two fathers.

"No, Hong Kong. You'll get hurt," he whispered to the boy. Hong Kong struggled against France's grip.

"I told you to get out!" England yelled at the sobbing China, who had yet to move. He pulled his hand back and brought it down hard on China's face.

"_DADDY_!" Canada yelled in horror around the same time Hong Kong screamed "BABA!"China fell to the floor, holding his cheek.

Canada got between England and China, holding his hands out. "Daddy, stop it! You can't do this to him!"

Everyone seemed taken aback. It was like the entire room held its breath. Sort of like at Canada's birthday party when Canada yelled at America.

"…Yes, I can…." England said eventually, a cold nature to his voice. He pointed at China. "He's my territory."

Canada was stunned. England… was occupying China? China… China was…

"He's your _concubine_?" Canada whispered, horrorstruck. If he wasn't in the house, cooking and cleaning (or trying to), then… there was nothing else China could be to England as a territory.

England raised an eyebrow, a "well, _duh_" smirk on his face. He sheathed his sword.

"And territories…" England reached past Canada while the younger as in a state of shock, and grabbed China by his ponytail. China gave a whimper as the blond dragged him to his feet. "…should obey orders."

England wrenched open the front door and tossed China outside. The Asian cried, hitting the ground hard. China turned back to face England.

"Please! I'll do anything!"

England raised an eyebrow. "But you'll already do anything, my dear." And he shut the door in China's face.

"Please! You can't do this to me!"

England ignored the cries through the wooden barrier. Hong Kong was crying, halfheartedly hitting France's arms, which were still firmly wrapped around Hong Kong's frame. The young nation looked even younger, smaller. Seychelles and Sealand were unusually quiet, both staring at Canada. Canada was staring at the man who had raised him to be a British gentleman.

Abuse wasn't in the top ten steps to be a British gentleman handbook.

England sighed, seemingly frustrated. "Who the bloody hell let _China_ into my house?" he asked the group, "I had a very bad day today, and…!" England took another deep breath. "…Okay, I'm good now." He walked past Canada, patting him on the shoulder. He walked up to France and Hong Kong and bent down; Hong Kong wouldn't look at him.

"I'm sorry you had to see that Hong Kong," he said in a would-be cheerful voice, "I didn't mean any of that towards you, honey. I love you."

Hong Kong didn't answer. Instead, he stopped struggling against France and sank deeper into his stepfather's embrace, something Canada had never seen him do before. England ruffled his illegitimate son's hair, and stood up. He walked past Seychelles and Sealand, both of whom hadn't said a single word.

He turned around when he reached the steps. "France… Lunch in a bit?"

France nodded, looking for all the world an unhappy house wife. And Canada decided, falling to his knees and watching the Englishman go up the stairs, that he didn't really like this new world all that much.

(Author Note: This fanfiction is still not over, don't worry. Aaaaaah~ Finally has a new chapter up. I'd like to thank **Dead-Knight-of-Darkness, KellyIouri, purple kimino, A Midsummer Night's Dream, akuoni, Darkfire Kitten, ArtisticIllutions, Red Roses2, Grace Raven, Laughing Rain, o-chan, **and** PurpleLeopard** for being my first reviewers. In case anyone is confused, with America gone, the American Revolution never happened. The American Revolution sparked a whole bunch of other revolutions. The British Empire became weak. There used to be an old saying "The sun never sets on the British Empire." Well, now the sun sets quite a lot on Britain. But without America to set an example, those revolutions never happened, and the British Empire grew more powerful. Or so says I, and I'm the author. Muhaha.

I'd also like to take time to mention something **ArtistilIllutions** pointed out to me: Ontario is not a "state," it is a province. What is the difference between a state and a province? Hell if I know. But I take this opportunity to apologize to any Canadians (particularly those living in Ontario) reading this story. Forgive my mistake. Don't be mad at the poor American child. *bows*

That is all. Continue downward for explanations and translations.)

*"Flatliner" is the Canadian equivalent to the American slang word "hick." For those of you who are neither Canadian nor American, Canada is calling America provincial, unintelligent, or in other words… an idiot.

**"Je t'aime", pronounced 'joo-tem', means "I love you" in French. Canada is saying "I love you, Papa."

***" Moi aussi, je t'aime", pronounced 'mwa oh see, joo-tem', means "I love you too" in French. France is saying "I love you, too, Canada."

**** "Gitch" is a Canadian slang word for underwear. "Gotch" is another. Forgive me if I wrote the plural wrong. I may say "eh" a lot, but I am not Canadian.

******* Hong Kong-style milk tea**, often known as _**dai pai dong**_** milk tea**, is a beverage originating from Hong Kong. It consists of black tea sweetened with evaporated milk (not condensed milk).

******"Dai Gou Gou" is Cantonese for "big brother." Hong Kong is calling Canada "Big Brother Canada". It's like "Canada Nii-san", only in Chinese instead of Japanese.

*******"Baba" is Cantonese for "Father." I've also seen it spelled "Baa Baa."

******** "Ngo gua zhu lei" is Cantonese for "I miss you." I really wanted to say "I _missed_ you", but… I couldn't figure out how. It's just a fanfiction! Sheesh….

********* "ngo oiy ney" is Cantonese for "I love you."

********** "chink" is a VERY offensive term for a Chinese person. A "chink" is also a "small, narrow crack or slit," so the term may have come from the almond-shaped eyes. Does anyone actually care where the term comes from? No. All we care about is that England's being an SOB.


	3. Chapter 3: A Nightmare

Chapter Three: A Nightmare

Lunch was, for lack of a better word, awkward.

France had whipped up a delicious entrée for everyone. Canada had helped him cook, ever the Papa's boy, and had noted that he didn't look remotely happy. He frowned the entire time, occasionally snarling a French curse word when something didn't cut quite right or boiled for too long. This was a clear sign that he was angry, since cooking usually made France happy, and he almost never spat vulgar words while doing it.

They all sat down at the table – in a very specific order. It was like everyone had picked the arrangement on purpose, though Canada was not aware there was a family meeting. England sat at the head of the table; France was to his right, Seychelles on his left, and Sealand next to her. Hong Kong sat next to France, staring down at his plate, refusing to even glance at his father.

Canada took the seat opposite England, next to Sealand and Hong Kong. He glanced at his Asian brother, and slipped his hand into the younger boy's grip under the table. Hong Kong's face gave nothing away, but the slight tremble in his fingers as he squeezed Canada's hand gave his feelings away.

The meal was in silence and most of them were spending it with a well pronounced frown on their face. By the way, "most" means "everyone besides England." The British man sat at the head of the table looking very pleased with himself.

"- so Germany's been complaining that I'm being 'unfair'. Well, I told him that I was the bloody British Empire and that if he had time to complain that perhaps he was being treated too kindly."

"My God, England," France gasped, "Please tell me you didn't - ?"

"No," England said, waving his sometimes lover away, "Prussia stepped in and said something about how he was older than Germany and, if I wanted something from his baby brother, I should take it from him…." The way he said it, with that horrible smile on his face… it was pure evil.

France seemed to think so too. He swallowed a bite of meat, and put his head in his hands. Canada didn't exactly know what England was talking about, but he knew it was making France worry for his friend, and that was never a good sign.

England took another bite of the French food in front of him. "But that damn Russia… He and his Soviet Union are really getting on my nerves…."

Canada choked on a piece of meat. The Soviet Union? That was impossible! The Soviet Union was gone! There was absolutely no way! The Soviet Union dissolved and –

…Didn't America have something to do with that?

Canada made a noise similar to that of a dying cat. Everyone at the table turned to stare at him. Canada shivered at the thought of the Soviet Union back. He thought that nightmare was over back in 1991! It was a miracle, that fateful December day. But now… now…

Canada was afraid of Russia. He'd always been afraid of Russia. Russia was a super power, he was scary, and he wanted to be one with _everyone_ – particularly large countries. Canada was the second largest country. Of course he was afraid of Russia.

But the fear had subsided a little bit when Russia wasn't… well… the mother freakin' Soviet Union. Oh _GOD_, Canada was _DEAD_. This time -!

This time America wasn't around.

Canada's lip trembled when he remembered the day America told him that he bought Alaska and that Canada was no longer Russia's next door neighbor. Canada had almost kissed him. America had laughed and called him a few choice names, but Canada didn't care. Alfred, whether knowingly or unknowingly, had protected him.

"Canada?" England asked from across the table. Canada snapped out of his trance, and looked up at England. He registered that Hong Kong was gripping his hand tightly, looking at him with concern. In fact, everyone was looking at him with concern. Canada blushed.

"Oh, um… it's just…" Canada sighed, deciding the truth was the best answer, "I-I'm scared of Russia."

England snorted and France gave Canada a sympathetic nod.

"Russia? Don't worry Canada, I've got that bastard covered."

Canada couldn't believe his ears. England… wasn't afraid of Russia? What kind of messed up world was this?

"B-but England…" Canada muttered, not sure what he was arguing about, "Russia… Russia is… you're terrified of Russia…."

England laughed. "Russia's powerful, true, but I'm the British Empire; I own half the world. Don't worry your little head, Canada," England smiled at his oldest son, "Daddy's going to burn it to the ground."

Canada jumped to his feet, as if shot by electricity."You can't! Ukraine…!" Canada's voice caught in his throat. He bit his lip.

England stared at him. Everyone stared at him. France coughed into his fist.

"My word, Canada… You are full of surprises today. How on earth do you know Ukraine?"

Canada swallowed and murmured something about hearing the name. He slowly sat back down, looking very embarrassed.

England shook his head. "My stars, Canada, get a grip on yourself! I expected this from your siblings, but you? You've always been so obedient. What's gotten into you?"

Canada's face was as red at the maple leaf on his flag. He stared at his food, feeling small.

Nobody else talked for a long time after that. Canada knew what they were probably thinking: "_Canada has lost it."_ He felt embarrassed, confused, and lost. Things were different – way too different. Things weren't going the way Canada had planned at _all_.

After lunch, Hong Kong got up from the table without a word and disappeared up the stairs, presumably to his bedroom. Seychelles and Sealand also got up, and exited the kitchen in a manner that reflected defiance more than Hong Kong's obvious feeling of fight-or-flight. England seemed to notice none of this. He stood up, looking quizzically at Canada, and France stood up after him, watching his children's father warily.

"Canada," England said pleasantly, "Can I talk to you?"

Canada stood up and gave a jerky nod. England walked around the table and took Canada by the hand. Canada let England lead him into his study, France following close behind. England let Canada sit in his cushy desk chair while he sat on the desk itself. France kept a distance away, but still close. It dawned on Canada that this was the same distance he kept to England and China – distant, but close enough to grab Hong Kong. The thought rattled Canada and he began to shake.

England leaned forward. "What's the matter, sweet heart?" he asked, placing a hand gently on Canada's shoulder, "You were acting odd at breakfast, too. Is it that dream you had?"

Canada looked up into those green eyes, the green eyes that belonged to the man that held him, raised him, loved him… and, against Canada's better judgement, he told him all about his 'dream.' Various emotions passed through Canada, retelling thousands of years' worth of history. He became excited, he became angry, he yelled, he whispered, he laughed… and, most of all, he cried. All this, these things he knew… they were gone. Forever.

England and France listened without a word. France's eyes glittered with varying emotions, listening to his son's _very_ long dream. England, on the other hand, listened without much emotion; he took in every word Canada said without a word of his own or even a gasp of surprise. There was only one change to his expression; every now and then, though in Canada's state he couldn't catch it, his bushy eyebrows would knit together and he would frown.

Eventually, Canada couldn't continue. He buried his face in his arms, body shaking. France hurried forward and wrapped his arms around his son.

"Shhhh… Shush, Canada…" he whispered, "Everything's okay…. You're awake now…. Shhh… Everything's okay…." But France's voice sounded uncertain, as if even he understood the true reason Canada was crying; he suspected Canada liked his 'dream world' better.

Canada clung onto France's arm for support. At least there was one thing that hadn't changed: France continued to love him and care for him. It was comforting to have France there.

England studied Canada. He coughed into his first and reached out a hand for Canada. France pulled Canada back a little bit, but the father and son ran into the back of the chair and England was able to reach his child. He cupped Canada's face with one hand.

"Everything…" he started, and then paused. He looked into Canada's tear streaked face, and his lip became a hard line. "Everything is going to be fine. I will not lose power. _Ever_." His green eyes turned steely. Something told Canada that his words weren't really meant to be a consolation, but a warning.

Canada trembled just a tiny bit, looking up into those cold eyes that used to bring such comfort. France held him tighter.

"England," he whispered to the man he had three children with, "Stop it. You're scaring him."

England's eyes snapped to France and the steeliness evaporated. He let go of Canada's face and kissed his forehead.

"Don't worry, Canada. I'll protect you," he said, smiling.

…So why did Canada feel so afraid?

France pulled Canada out of the chair. "England, why don't I spend some time with Canada, get his thoughts straightened out?"

England nodded after a second. "Yes, that would be best," he decided and sat down in the chair Canada no longer occupied, "In the meantime, I'll do a little business."

Canada let his French father pull him out of the room and shut the door behind them. When they reached the kitchen, France turned around and held Canada at arm's length.

"Canada, what were you thinking? Telling him all that?" he looked concerned, "You've always been the one to…" France sighed, "to be the 'good child.' I never thought I'd actually have to worry about you! Canada, you know not to do anything to upset your father…."

Canada stared at France like he was crazy. "Papa…?" Canada asked. France shook his head.

"You're clearly upset about something…. Why don't we have some ice cream, just the two of us?"

France patted Canada on the back and led him into the kitchen. Canada sat down and his father prepared two bowls of ice cream.

"Canada, what's the matter? This dream of yours…" France frowned, "it seems very vivid and detailed… was it…" France bit his lip and whispered, "an escape?"

Canada stared at France. An escape….

"…No," Canada said, feeling rightly ashamed of himself. _No… this was the escape… or it was supposed to be…._

France made a face that clearly said he didn't believe Canada. He sighed and murmured "You know… if you ever want to talk… I'm right here…."

Canada smiled a tiny bit and took a bite of ice cream. The cold dessert melted in his mouth. He laughed.

"You know, I remember…" he took another bite, "Alfred and I used to eat this when we were really little. It would get all over his face, and he just looked so - !" Canada stopped at the what-are-you-talking-about look on France's face. He looked back at his food.

France sighed. "Canada… are you unhappy? It's okay if you are…"

Canada didn't know what to say. Was he unhappy? Hong Kong was unhappy. China was unhappy. And… Canada shuttered. He didn't like the way England was acting – not one bit.

France took Canada's silence as a 'yes' and patted his son's head. "Things will… things will get better, Canada… I'm sure of it."

Spoken like a true abused wife.

Canada looked at France, concern drawn on his face. Please… please don't tell him…

"Papa…?" Canada asked in a tiny voice, "Daddy doesn't… _hurt_ you, does he?"

France looked taken aback. "Is that what you're worried about?" France smiled and ruffled Canada's hair. "No, honey… Daddy doesn't hurt me unless we're at war…." He nuzzled Canada's forehead. Canada frowned.

"…You're acting… a little strange, Papa…"

It was true. France hadn't cracked a single perverted joke since Canada had arrived in this crazy, messed up world. As loving as France was, he usually wasn't this way 24/7, and he never let England get away with anything!

France looked like a deer in the headlights. Like he was caught doing something he shouldn't have, like a kid whose mummy caught him stealing from the cookie jar. He coughed into his fist.

"I don't know what you're talking about…."

Canada stared at France. "…Papa?"

"Want to go play a game?" France asked abruptly, "We can play baseball, if you want."

Canada stared at France for another minute, before nodding. Fine. He'd humor him.

But what the hell was he hiding?

France grabbed a pair of baseball gloves and a ball from a shelf and waved for Canada to follow him. Canada got up from the table and followed his father out to the backyard.

The backyard looked the same as it always had. Lush and green, with old toys littering the ground. France tossed Canada one of the baseball mitts. Canada sighed and put it on.

"Alright, Canada?" France called to him, "I'm going to throw the ball now!"

Canada got ready. France tossed the ball to him and the younger nation caught it. France cheered, much too excited over this simple achievement. Canada tossed it back, and France… missed the ball.

"I'll get it!" France called as the ball sailed passed him.

The rest of the game continued in this manner, the two passing the ball back and forth, France occasionally missing…. It made Canada forget a lot of his worries. The familiar feel of the ball, the repetitive nature of their game… it was all very comforting and made Canada's mind stop thinking about the bad things. That was… until…

"You know!" he called to France, "I always kind of liked this game! It's just America always play too rou - !" Canada paused, catching the ball. He stared at the white orb in his hand, examining the red thread. America had loved this game. He and Canada used to play all the time… even if America didn't understand that he was abnormally strong and often played too rough with Canada. America had taught Japan, too. America… America…

"…Canada…"

Canada was brought out of his daze by France, who was looking at the ground. The Frenchman looked embarrassed, and frustrated.

"Papa?" Canada asked. France didn't answer for a minute.

"…You… do deserve to know… I guess…." France looked mortally ashamed.

"…Know what, Papa?" Canada asked. His voice sounded cold and hollow, even to Canada. The brief, ever so brief reprieve was gone, and both of them knew it. France made a choking noise.

"I know you probably don't want to hear this…!" France started to cry, "BUT YOUR FATHER AND I HAVEN'T SLEPT TOGETHER FOR OVER A DECADE!"

It was like Canada was slapped in the face, and then hit in the stomach with a baseball bat. For one thing, he didn't want to know when the last time France and England had slept together. And for another thing… it was just impossible for France to keep his hands off England for that long!

"..w-why not?" Canada stuttered. France dropped his baseball mitt and buried his face in his hands.

*"It's-! It's my people! They're not happy! And-! And they're not confident enough to just - ! Just revolt already!" France gave a great sob, "They're unhappy, and… and it makes… things… not…" France's face turned bright red, "n-not… w-w-work…."

The horrific implications were outstanding. Canada's face glowed with embarrassment, not really wanting to head about his father's… _problems_.

"Y-you mean…?" Canada cringed.

"_YES!"_ France sobbed, "I have…_ERECTILE DYSFUNCTION_!"

Now, this disturbs most men. But for France… it was like… _death_. The very idea… it was unthinkable!

"…You're kidding me!" Canada asked, astonished. France shook his head.

"I try! I try really hard! B-b-but…!" France cried some more, "You know… I blame myself for… for China… and Prussia… and… the others… if… if I was just a better lover… I…!" France fell to his knees and sobbed.

Canada dropped the baseball and mitt and rushed forward to comfort his father. He bent down and wrapped his arms around France.

"It's… fine…." Canada tried to say, "Everything's… going to be okay…."

But everything was _not_ okay. Hong Kong couldn't see China. England was a prick. And France had erectile dysfunction…. Canada had died, and gone to hell.

France hugged Canada tightly. "Oh, Mattie…. Please…. Don't tell anyone? I'd be… I'd just _die_ if anyone…"

Canada hugged him tighter. "It's okay, Papa…I won't tell anyone…"

France cried a little more before whipping his eyes. "Oh my… look at me… crying on my son… I'm so sorry, Canada."

"No, no, it's okay!" Canada said, not wanting to hurt his father's feelings, "Um… w-why don't we go inside?"

France nodded and stood up on shaky legs. Canada supported him and helped him toward the door. France looked up at the sky.

"It's getting dark… have we really been out here all that time?"

Canada looked up at the sky. Sure enough, the sun was going down. Canada's mind went fuzzy, thinking about it….

An entire day without America….

And he hated it.

He followed France inside and the other nation stretched. Cracking his neck, he turned to Canada.

"I'm going to wash up and go to bed. You should, too, Matthew."

Canada nodded. France patted his head, and left the younger nation alone. Canada sighed, and frowned. He reached up and grabbed at his hair, ruffling it up in frustration.

In an angry fashion, he stomped down the hall. Perhaps if he went to sleep, he would wake up in his own world. Yes, that was it… this was a dream…

Or a nightmare.

Canada was almost to the stairs when he passed England's office. There were muffled sounds coming from it, sounds that made Canada's heart stop.

"E-England! Get -! Get off me! I only came to see France!"

"Aw~, but Spain… do you really think you can say 'no' to me?"

Canada froze. No… no…

"Ah-! AH! N-no! Don't t-t-touch m-me – ah!"

Canada clamped a hand over his mouth, eyes wide.

"_STOOOP_!"

Half of Canada wanted to burst in there and tell his father off, stop… whatever was happening. But… but…!

The other half just wanted to wake up from this nightmare.

Canada ran from the hallway, up the stairs, and hid under his – America's – bedcovers, crying.

_It's just a dream, just a dream, just a dream, just a dream, just a dream…._

(Author Note: The story is not over! Do not worry! Yeah… France has erectile dysfunction. I went there. The world in ending. And yes… England is a horrible, evil, sonovabiyotch.

…I feel like a horrible person right about now… -cries-

Oh, and I will not be updating for a loooooooong time…. I have summer camp. I apologies.

And I'd like to clear something up. **Almost Silent** has brought to my attention that their French teacher would be appalled by my pronunciation of "Je t'aime." I had at first sought out the assistance of the internet to help me with the French and Cantonese in the last chapter. When **Almost Silent** corrected me, I looked to the internet once more, but this time I looked up sound files of actual French people speaking this sentence. Ladies and Gentlemen, it _IS_ pronounced "joo tem." **Almost Silent**, your French teacher should be fired.)

*America started a lot of revolutions, including the one in France. America's achievement gave the French people hope of succeeding in getting rid of the "old ways." Without America's revolution… well… eh-hem! Poor France….


	4. Chapter 4: Lament

Chapter Four: Lament

Canada couldn't sleep well that night.

He had a nightmare that England was chasing him with a Halloween mask. Just when Canada could run no longer, he ran into his twin brother.

"Didn't I tell you not to go into the house? Didn't I tell you it was haunted?"

Canada hit him. "Shut up, America! Help me!" But when he went to hit his brother again, his fist went straight through his smug, insufferable face. "A-America?"

"I told you, Canada," America smiled, "Didn't I tell you? Didn't I say it was haunted?"

"America?"

And bit by bit, America disappeared – like the Cheshire cat, like smoke, like vapor… like a ghost.

"AMERICA!" Canada screamed, in both the dream and in real life. He awoke with a start, calling his brother's name, tears dripping down his face.

Screaming is rarely quiet, and Canada's scream was no different from the average. Which became apparent when the door almost immediately bust open, and then every occupant of the second floor filed into his bedroom in a rush.

His three siblings hovered anxiously at the foot of his bed, gauging the situation.

"Are you alright?" asked Seychelles, hands drifting to her hips when it was evident that Canada was not being murdered in his sleep. Canada nodded.

"Who the hell is 'America'?" asked Sealand, crawling onto Canada's bed. Canada blushed.

"N-no one… go back to bed."

"You're not the boss of me." Canada smiled at how alike America and Sealand were. But…

Canada grabbed Sealand and tickled him. He laughed and squirmed and kicked, but Canada wasn't even thrown off balance.

Sealand just wasn't strong enough.

None of them were strong enough.

Canada buried his face in Sealand's shoulder. The tiny nation-wanna-be stopped moving and looked down at the mass of blond that was Canada's head.

"Canada…?"

Canada didn't respond to Sealand. Hong Kong sat on the edge of the bed slowly, as if he was disturbing a wild animal.

"Canada Dai Gou Gou? He asked gently, "Are you sick?"

Canada shook his head and looked up at the Asian. Hong Kong stared back at him, impassive.

"…I'm sorry…" Canada whispered. Hong Kong looked taken aback.

"…what?"

Canada couldn't stop looking at his brother. The Asian boy, who was usually so unemotional… he looked a mess. It wasn't the I-just-woke-up' kind of a mess, either; it was 'I-just-woke-up-after-crying-myself-asleep' a mess. Kind of the way Canada looked right about now.

"…I'm _so_ sorry…." Canada said again, tears dripping down his face, "…everyone…"

"Ew-! You're getting me all wet!" Sealand complained at the tears stained his nightshirt.

Breakfast was the worst family gathering Canada ever had to endure.

First of all, England looked much too innocent drinking that tea. The so called "English gentleman" was humming a cheery little tune while reading the newspaper. France was at the table, sitting next to him, face buried in his hands.

"Mon Dieu, England… I… I can't believe you… _did_ that to him!" France looked like a man who just received an expensive bill… only worse.

England shrugged and continued reading his newspaper. France's arms folded and he placed his face in the nook of his arms; he looked down right miserable.

"…Oh, Canada!" England said, noticing his son, "Good morning!"

Canada stared at his feet, unable to look at his father. His siblings filed into the kitchen behind him, and each were greeted by the parent they all had in common; none of them replied to the Englishman. England frowned.

"You're all so moody this morning. Even you Canada."

Canada didn't reply, but followed his siblings to the kitchen counter and let Hong Kong pour him a cup of milk tea.

"Cheer up all of you," England said, smiling as he folded his newspaper, "We have a guest coming over later."

Instead of cheering everyone up, the whole room suddenly felt like England had set off a time bomb. Seychelles caught her breath, and Sealand nearly slipped off the countertop he had been sitting on. Hong Kong spilt the tea, and France made some sort of choking noise.

"A guest?" France asked, accusingly, "Why wasn't I told about this?"

England raised an eyebrow. "Because this is not your house, France. It is mine. I don't see any reason for me to inform you about _everything_."

France growled. "What about _Spain_?"

England shrugged. "He should be going home after breakfast."

France looked like England had just slapped him. "After… breakfast?"

England nodded. "I invited him to eat with us. I think he wanted to talk to you about something."

"Damn right I do…" said a husky voice from the door. Canada, and everyone else, whirled around to the kitchen door, where the once proud nation of Spain stood.

The Spaniard's hair was ragged, and there were cuts on his face. His shirt was stained with sweat and blood, and was torn in several places. As he approached the table he walked with a limp.

Spain took the seat next to France, who quickly grabbed his arm and began murmuring condolences in French. Spain kept nodding, and shushing him, muttering his own condolences in Spanish. In fact, it looked more like Spain was comforting France than France comforting Spain.

The children hadn't moved. Seychelles bit her lip and looked like she was ready to hit something. Sealand, on the other hand, simply looked confused and concerned. Canada glanced at Hong Kong, who did not look at him.

"…Sit down, kids," England said, "What's the matter with you?"

"Francis, los niños necesitan una familia buena. Tu esposo es muy malo! Divorcida él, Francis!"

"Je veux le divorcer, mais je ne peux pas, Antonio…."

"Sí, tú puedas! Francis, tú estes fuertes! Divorcida él! Pronto!"

"Je le divorcerai! Dès que le temps juste vient..."

"_Ahora_, Francis!"

"Je ne peux pas!" *

England had started twitching long before Spain started to yell – or, rather, whisper very loudly. He looked at his boyfriend and his boyfriend's friend, a very dangerous annoyed look in his bright green eyes.

"Would you two mind _speaking bloody English_?" France winced but Spain sat up straighter, defiance in his eyes.

"Oh, I'm terribly sorry, Lord of all Creation, I wasn't aware that such an important person couldn't speak any of the languages of love. Could it be that you've never experienced it?"

"Why you insolent _prat_! Do you want a repeat of last night?"

"No!"France said, standing up, "I mean… please, can we… can we not talk about this in front of the kids?"

England seemed to remember that his children were still in the room and he composed himself. "Kids, sit down, please. Eat your breakfast." He roughly adjusted his news paper as Sealand volunteered to sit down first, followed by the rest of his siblings. Spain leaned in to France and Canada caught him furiously whispering "Divorcida el, divorcida el, divorcida el, divorcida el…."**

Canada picked at his food, not looking at his parents and especially not at Spain. Canada had never felt so bad in his life; the man his father… the man his father… God, Canada couldn't even think about it! The man his father "hurt," his other father's _best friend_, was sitting at the kitchen table the morning after England… "_hurt_" him. It was disturbing, knowing what England had done to him only a few hours ago. Even the other kids, who hadn't overheard what was going on in that office, seemed to be on edge. The table radiated hatred, fear, guilt, and every other bad emotion Canada could think of.

"Me gusta tú, Francis. Tú es mi amigo. Quiero ayudarte. Considérelo por favor, Francis," Spain said, touching France's shoulder. France didn't look at him when he muttered "Je suis désolé."***

Spain stood up, and England spared him a glance before going back to his paper. "I am going home. Or does the supreme ruler of the world object?" Spain sent England a cold glare that could have frozen even Egypt to the core – something Canada didn't know the Mediterranean country was capable of.

England was undaunted. He shrugged. "I'm not stopping you."

Spain looked like he'd like to cut off England's head with that gigantic axe of his. He spun around, tattered shirt flapping around him, and marched to the kitchen door with as much dignity as possible. England smirked.

"_ADIOS_!" Spain shouted and slammed the door shut.****

France collapsed back into his chair. He started to cry, and a look of true, genuine concern passed over England's face.

"Francis? What's the matter? Did he say something mean to you?"

France put his face in his hand and shook his head, shoulders convulsing with grief. England reached over and gently rubbed France's shoulder.

"Shhh… Don't worry. I'll punish him for making you cry."

"_Don't_!" France shrieked, sobbing even harder, "Touch him again and I'll kill myself! You'll see! I'll-! _I'll-!_"

"_WHAT ARE YOU SAYING_?" England shouted, horrified. Canada felt his insides go cold, and his eyes snapped to look at France. He heard the small clatter of Seychelles's fork hitting the floor.

England grabbed France by the chin, and made him look at him. He looked somewhere between angry and scared. "France, you know you can't do that! How could you even _suggest_ that? And in front of Canada, Seychelles, and Sealand?"

France cried harder.

In a moment of almost laughable inappropriateness, Sealand suddenly shouted "What's that on the floor?"

All eyes went to Sealand, who was standing on his chair, pointing at an object lying on the kitchen floor. The object was a tiny square piece of paper. France blinked, staring at the piece of paper. He whipped his nose, knocked out of his hysteria, and got up to pick it up. He flipped it over and smiled.

"Ah… Spain dropped this. It's a picture of his favorite cuties."

"Cuties?" Sealand asked as France came back to the table.

"The Italy brothers."

Canada smiled. Ah… at least some things never change. Spain was still chasing after Italy and Romano – mostly Romano. Oh, how Canada wished he could have been with Italy now, so full of hope and happiness.

"Wow~!" Sealand said when France handed him the picture, "Who's that man behind them?"

"That's Mr. Germany; he's a friend of Ita-chan," France made what looked to be an attempt at a happy face, "Ah, if only they'd just confess to each other already. My little brother is so useless when it comes to love; he can flirt and flirt but when it counts – tsk tsk! – he misses opportunity after opportunity! Ah, Ita-chan~ Why are you so naive? Mon Dieu…"

Canada's smile grew a little wider. Italy and Germany were still hopelessly in love. Perhaps this world wasn't doomed after all.

"Can I see that picture?" Canada asked, wanting to look at something familiar in this crazy world were nothing was right. Sealand handed Canada the picture –

And any hope of familiarity went out the window.

Canada gaped at the picture before him. Germany was in the far left corner of the picture, standing protectively at Italy's shoulder; he was dressed in the same uniform he always wore, still had his hair slicked back, and still had the same gruff face. Germany was pretty much Germany.

…But that _couldn't_ be Italy.

He _might_ have accepted it if it was just Romano… but no! Italy, too! It… it was just… no… not possible.

Italy and Romano looked, for lack of a better word… _bad ass_.

The two basically looked like they stepped out of a BDSM magazine*****. They both wore plain white shirts that were halfway unbuttoned and matching black leather shorts. Around Italy's neck, as usual, was Germany's iron cross pendant – only now it looked so much dirtier. Perhaps it was the far-too-short shorts, or the buckles on his black gloves that made them look dangerously like handcuffs, but the silver and black cross against Italy's exposed chest seemed indecent. At least Italy wore a black jacket, whereas Romano did not. They both, however, wore intricately laced up leather boots. Canada stared at these for a while, perplexed; he doubted Italy knew how to tie the laces on a tennis shoe, let alone those boots. Germany probably did it for him….

Canada expelled the horrifyingly graphic image that came to his mind when he thought of Germany tying those boots on an S&M-esque Italy.

He handed the picture back to France with a trembling hand. "W-w-w-w-why are they dressed like that?"

France frowned. "Ah… well…!"

"They started dressing like that after the Italian Revolt!" England snapped. France sighed.

"What are you so upset about? They lost."

"How could they even _think_ of revolting against _me_?" England puffed out his chest, "I'm the British Empire!"

"Yes, you are…." France muttered as if that explained everything. England deflated and put his face in his hands.

"They're still giving me trouble…. That damned mafia…." France spared him a glance and then went back to his breakfast.

"Feliciano and Lovino Vargas, along with Germany and a few other countries, revolted against your father. They lost the battle, but Italy's mafia still acts up – more than they used to," he told Canada, sounding cold.

Canada remembered that Italy and Romano had a bit of a problem with the mafia, but it had never been enough to affect the personified countries. He stared at the picture in France's hand, disbelief written across his face.

The world had pretty much come to an end.

It was about an hour later that the other guest arrived. England had told Canada and the others to get ready. Seychelles had banged her fist onto the kitchen table and stormed off, Sealand hot on her heels. Hong Kong quietly excused himself. Canada finished brushing his teeth and was walking to the living room when he heard France's voice.

"Please, England. Don't hurt him. He really didn't do anything." France sounded like he was crying again.

"Are you sure? You look… you look awful. Please stop crying, France." England's voice sounded affectionate and caring.

"I-I'm fine…."

"Please don't do anything rash, Francis…. I would be so sad if you died. And you can't just leave the kids like that –"

"I know. I was just… getting… a little emotional." France's voice cracked.

"Ssshhhh… it's okay. Everything's alright now…."

Canada peered around the corner and spied on his parents. England was holding France's hand, concern written on his face. France looked at his feet, tears dripping down his face.

"Just… please… don't hurt Spain and Prussia anymore… not… not like that. War I can handle – it's a natural part of being a country – but…" France gave a sob and buried his face in England's shoulder. England rubbed his back gently and murmured words of comfort to his sometimes-lover.

"They're my friends…." France squeaked, crying into England's shoulder, "Please…!"

"Shhh… It's okay, it's okay. I won't, not unless they act up. Shhh, everything's fine."

"No… it's not…."

England took France's hand and kissed the back of it, then the knuckles, his thumb… France gave a choked sob and watched England intently. The British man looked up at France, his soft features slipping into a pure, unadulterated look of worry… and love. Canada had seen that look before, on _his_ England's face. He'd seen England look like that in World War II, during the Fall of France******. He'd seen England look that way when Japan had taken Hong Kong away from him*******. He'd seen that look when America's Twin Towers went down********….

America.

Canada felt his chest tighten, thinking of his brother. England had loved his stupid son more than anything in the world. Canada had resented that sometimes… but…

Okay, he still sort of resented it. How could he not? America usually got his way when he and Canada argued. When America and Canada had argued over Haines ("It's on Alaska's side of the boarder!" "Nu-uh! It's _clearly_ on BC's side!"), who did England side with? America. That no-good, favoring _prick_…

But America always had a way of bringing out the best in England. He had a way of putting him in his place when England got too controlling. He had a way of making England smile, even in the worst of times. And when they were young, and America was still somewhat polite, he would even lie about the horrible cooking, just to make England smile. England had adored him….

The doorbell rang, knocking Canada out of his thoughts. England looked away from France, toward the door.

"France, why don't you go clean yourself up. Our guest's here."

France nodded. England smiled and placed a gentle kiss on his lips before hurrying toward the door. France walked toward the hallway Canada stood in and stopped.

"Oh, Canada…."

"Are you okay?" Canada asked, worried about France. Tears still clung to his father's cheeks.

"Oh… yes… I'm fine…." France smiled a bit and ruffled Canada's hair, "I'm going to make myself a bit more presentable. I'll be back."

And France hurried up the stairs behind Canada. Canada watched him leave, but walked to the front door when he heard England open it.

"It is so nice to see you! Thank you for coming! Come in, come in!"

And the one person Canada hadn't expected to see in this world walked through the door.

"Thank you, England-san."

"Why are you taking off your shoes?"

Japan, Kiku Honda, walked through the door and was currently slipping out of his sandals. But wait… didn't Japan only reenter the world because of America? Canada's head hurt.

"I am very pleased you have invited me to your home. I should like to take a look around, as you requested." The Asian man didn't look particularly pleased, or interested.

"I am happy you could come!"

"Well, you did – how do you say? – pester me until I agreed."

"I think you meant to say 'ask'."

"Perhaps." Which, for Japan, meant 'no.'

England smiled. "This is my oldest son," he said, looking behind him and noticing Canada, "Japan, meet Canada. Canada, this is Japan."

Japan bowed. "It is a pleasure to meet you."

Canada nodded. England waved his arms around dramatically.

"Well, allow me to give you the tour!" he smiled and began walking toward the kitchen. Canada followed silently, with Japan. The Japanese man gave him a glance as he followed England.

The tour went on as if England was trying to sell Japan the house. "The kitchen is _gorgeous_! The countertops are made of the finest material – scorch-proof!" "Hardwood floor, bullet proof windows…" "That chest of drawers was made in the Renaissance!" "Don't you just _love_ these chandeliers?"

"It is all very… _Western_," Japan said, a slight irritation in his voice. Canada blinked. Typically, Japan loved anything 'Western.' He and America spent so much time together, trading with each other, playing games together.

It was now that Canada noticed Japan's dress; he was not wearing his normal military uniform, but a yukata.********* This in itself didn't seem odd to Canada, but he had his katana strapped to his hip. He usually only wore his yukata during informal events, and he never wore his sword with it. He looked for all the world like a samuri.

Perhaps he was.

The phone rang abruptly and England jumped. He laughed and picked the receiver. "Hold on a second, Japan~!" England turned away from his guest and son.

"What do you mean? Of course not! …Are you serious?" Canada watched as his father's back went rigid, "_Damn_, those bloody Italians… No, no! I'll handle it! _I'LL HANDLE IT_!" He slammed the receiver back down with a loud _CLING!_ He turned to face Japan.

"I am so sorry, Japan. Something's come up. Would you mind waiting while I run a quick errand?"

Japan, ever so polite, nodded without complaint. Canada noticed England's eye twitch the way it did when he got stressed out and upset.

"Daddy, are you okay?" Canada asked. England's eyes snapped to Canada, as if only just then realizing he was still there.

"Oh, yes! Everything's fine! Daddy will be back shortly!" England nodded to Japan and dashed out of the room, muffled curses following him. This left Canada and Japan alone in the living room. Canada shuffled his feet.

"W-well, um… It's sure been a long time, J-Japan…" Canada couldn't place his nervousness; Japan had never made him truly nervous before. However, Japan seemed less open – defensive – than when Canada had known him…. And, by God, it was scary.

"…Long time?" Japan asked, turning his attention to Canada, "This is the first time I have ever met you."

Canada laughed nervously. "Well, then perhaps we've met in a dream…. Eh-heh…."

Japan seemed to take this statement seriously and nodded. "Perhaps."

The two stood in silence for a moment. The Asian nation looked around, like he was looking for something. Canada cocked his head to the side.

"Are you… looking for Hong Kong?"

Japan jumped, as if he'd been caught doing something bad. Canada giggled – actually giggled – at the idea of Japan jumping at such a simple question. Then he thought about, and the Asian was probably right to jump.

"It's alright. I'm sure Hong Kong would like to see you, too."

Japan eyed Canada with some suspicion. "…I really hadn't thought about seeing Hong Kong…" though his eyes told a different story. He crossed his arms defensively, but didn't tell Canada not to retrieve his brother. The blond nation gave the Asian a sad smile and walked over to the steps.

"Hong Kong!"

Japan stiffened, looking apprehensive. Canada saw Hong Kong's tiny, sock-clad feet reach the top of the stairs. The young man descended the stairs, dark hair bouncing ever so slightly with each step. His emotionless eyes bore into Canada's questioningly.

"What is it, Dai Gao Gao?"

Japan's breath caught. Hong Kong paused, staring at Canada as if looking for some sort of sign. Canada stared back up at Hong Kong smiling. He jerked his head toward the living room, but Hong Kong took a minute to take the cue.

Finally, Canada's half brother turned to face the living room.

"…Japan Dai Gao Gao?"

"Hong K-" Japan's voice caught and he stopped, making his mouth a thin line. His lip trembled.

Hong Kong met Canada at the landing, but he didn't rush to hug his Asian brother. He stood at Canada's side, closer than normal, eyes never leaving Japan. Canada paused; things weren't the same anymore… what if something bad happened between Japan and Hong Kong…?

And then Canada noticed Hong Kong's eyes dart around the room. It was a frantic eye movement, like he was worried and looking for something… or someone.

Then it clicked.

"Daddy isn't here."

Hong Kong looked up at Canada, overwhelmed. Canada placed a hand on his younger brother's shoulder. He could see Seychelles and Sealand appear at the top of the stairs to see what the fuss was about.

And then Hong Kong darted from Canada's hand and ran into the arms of Japan. The older Asian enveloped the smaller boy in his long sleeves, burying his face in his fluffy hair.

"Doh je… Japan."**********

"…Dō itashi mashite, nii-chan."**********

The whole scene was very sweet. Two brothers coming together after so long… And yet it felt dangerous. Perhaps that was because it was. England could be back at any time. Seychelles and Sealand took places on either side of Canada.

"What are you doing?" Seychelles whispered to her older brother. Canada shook his head.

"…I don't know."

Seychelles glances at him and then back at the Asians. Hong Kong was making sniffing noises in Japan's chest, the older of the two rubbing his back in comfort. Seychelles leaned against Canada's side.

"I'm watching you, Daddy's Boy…"

Canada glances at his sister, unsure what he was supposed to say to that. He swallowed, trying to come up with a response.

"What's going on here?"

Everyone whipped around. Hong Kong pulled sharply away from Japan's embrace and Japan jumped back away from his younger brother. They all stared at the speaker with bated breath.

France stood on the stairs, a towel wrapped around his golden hair. He was clothed in his normal flamboyant military outfit, purple and red cloth slightly damp. Hong Kong stared at him with wide, fearful eyes.

France looked around at everyone and pulled the towel off his head. "Where's England?"

Canada wasn't sure what he was saying until it was out of his mouth. "'tbebored."

Okay, he still wasn't sure what he said. Apparently, neither was France.

"…Pardon?"

Canada took a breath. All eyes were on him. Seychelles looked shocked. "Daddy went somewhere… to take care of some business… so… I got everyone together… so we can play… baseball… so Japan wouldn't be bored…."

France surveyed the situation, glancing at everyone's fearful faces. He probably knew that wasn't what was going on, but he smiled anyway. "Well, why are we in the living room, then? Let's get out the baseball equipment."

He descended the rest of the steps and patting Canada on the shoulder before approaching Japan. He held a hand out for him, "Nice to meet you, Japan."

Japan took his hand and shook it before bowing. "And you, France-san."

England was in for a surprise when he arrived home from his little emergency, tired and frustrated. He hung his coat on the coat rack, slipped out of his boots and places his aching feet on the hardwood floor. The cold floor chilled his toes in a pleasant way as he leaned against the wall.

"Sorry about that, Japan…." He said, eyes closed, "Just a minor issue… no biggie." He opened his eyes and looked around. "…Japan?"

No response. Did the nation leave?

"Canada? Did Japan leave?"

…No response.

"France? Seychelles! Hong Kong! Sealand!"

An empty eco resounded back to him. The house was empty.

A fear gripped at England's heart. Did they all just leave? Leave _him_ all _alone_? But… _no_! France wouldn't do that. Canada wouldn't do that! Did something happen? Where were they? Where-?

"France!" He shouted at the top of his lungs, dashing further into the house,"Canada!" No. They wouldn't abandon him! Not like… Not like…!

"_Get lost!" the older nation shouted at the small, blond child. The child cowered and ran as the older nation tossed stones at him. "Leave me alone, England! Ye jus' get the 'ell oot o here!" _

"_B-but Scotland!" England cried, wrapping his little cloak tight around him, "Th-the… THE DEMONS! They're coming to get me! They say they're going to EAT ME!"_

_One of the stones smacked England on his little head. "B-Big brother!" _

"_Haud yer wheesht!" _

"_Ireland!" England cried in desperation, needing a friend, a real brother. Ireland would understand…. Ireland sees fairies and the like, too…._

"_What? Ye think I want cha?" Ireland glared down at England, "Ye listen here, boyo: I say let the demon eat cha." _

_Ireland pushed England away from him, into Wales. Wales held England in his strong hands, looking down at him with an expressionless face. _

"_Big brother Wales…." England said, tears streaming down his face, "H… help me…." _

_Wales furrowed his eyebrows. He pushed the fringe off England's forehead, looking deep into his green eyes. _

_He pushed England away, into the dirt and the mud. _

"_Get out of my sight." And Wales turned his back on England… just like everyone else. _

England trembled with the memory from his past. He pulled up his fist and brought it down against the sideboard in the hall wall. The wood cracked against England's fist. The man trembled, rage flooding him. How could they do this? _How?_ Even France… Even he…!

_The child England sobbed in the dirt, dreading the night. Lost and abandoned, he curled him, burying his face in his knees._

"_Bonjour."_

_England looked up, big green orbs meeting blue ones. A woman – at least it looked like a woman – stood over England, smiling down at him. Her shoulder-length hair was shiny and golden, her face bright and smiling. She wore a blue dress, with gold at the cuffs and neckline. It fluttered in the wind, whipping around her periwinkle-stocking clad legs. _

_She kneeled down, sitting on her feet. "What is a little kid doing in a place like this?" _

_England sniffed. "Waiting to be eaten by the demons…." The tiny nation began to cry anew, staining his green cloak with his tears. _

"_There, there…" the strange woman said in her foreign accent, "Whatever do you mean?"_

_England turned defiant eyes to the woman. "The demons are coming to eat me… sniff… and… and my brothers won't help me…." _

"_Eh?" the woman stood up. England was afraid she'd leave, but she held her arms out. "Then come stay with Big Brother France! I will protect you from those nasty demons~!" _

_France took England by the hand, and kissed his head. "Cheer up, little one," the older nation said, "Big Brother France will keep you nice and safe." _

_England wrapped his arms around the older man, feeling safe and warm and happy. _

"_Haha!" France said, "You are so cute!" _

France… France would never leave him. _Never_.

"FRANCE!" England yelled, tearing through the house. He passed by a window and skidded to a stop. He didn't stop quite fast enough and ended up slamming face first into a dresser, but never mind that. He backtracked to the window and peered out it.

Out in the backyard, his family was playing a game of baseball. Japan, too. The six players ran around the make-shift baseball field, laughing and smiling. Even Hong Kong, who usually couldn't smile to save his life.

England watched his family (and Japan) for a good twenty minutes. He leaned against the window frame, a blank look on his face. They hadn't left. They were right there.

The nation gave a shaky laugh. Really, he could overreact sometimes. Of course they didn't leave. Who could leave the great British Empire? A fond look crossed his eyes, gazing out at them. Of course they stayed.

Hong Kong glanced at the window briefly, but he paused. England smiled at his son, but Hong Kong's smile had left his face. In fact, Hong Kong look disappointed – even saddened.

England gritted his teeth.

The meaning behind Hong Kong's sudden stillness hadn't quite processed for Canada. Seychelles was the next to catch on, looking at the window and missing the ball she was supposed to be swinging at. France, who was playing catcher, noticed after her. He stood up, looking at the window. Sealand, Japan, and Canada were the last to clue in, but they all looked at the window in the end.

England stood there, frowning and looking very putout. Canada winced. Was England angry? That wasn't good….

France smiled and waved at England. England's frown didn't completely disappear, but he did wave back before motioning for them to come inside. Hong Kong withered noticeably, glancing at Japan.

The six of them went back inside, dusting off their clothes. England had taken a seat in his big red chair by the fireplace. France quickly took the seat to England's left. Japan bowed to the man.

"I trust you have completed you errand, England-san?"

England nodded. "Yes, Japan. Would you like to continue our tour?"

Japan shook his head. "I think I've seen enough, and I really must be getting home. Will you show me to the door, England-san?"

England smiled, getting out of his big red chair. "Of course, Japan."

Canada followed the two men out into the hallway.

"So, Japan… do you intend to accept my offer?"

"I shall think about it. There are many things to consider."

"Like what?"

"Like what is best for my people. Russia has also offered to make me part of his Soviet Union."

"Well, you don't want to be one with _Russia_, do you?" England laughed.

Japan paused. "…No. I do not. To be honest, England-san, I do not wish to be one with anyone."

There was a pause. Canada watched the Englishman and the Japanese man as they paused in the doorway. Japan seemed to be considering something.

"…If I were to chose to be part of the British Empire –"

"Yes?"

"…There are some things I'd want."

"I'm all ears, Japan," said England, brushing a strand of dark hair away from Japan's face. The Asian man didn't flinch.

"…I want a position in this house."

England smiled. "Of course you do," he smiled, "You don't want to be like Spain, or China –"

That was the wrong thing to say. Japan drew his sword faster than England could react. It was on his throat in a second. England whipped his gun out, pointing it at Japan's chest, but the Japanese man didn't move.

"France!" Canada yelled, concerned. England and Japan quickly put their weapons away. France hurried into the room, flustered.

"What's the matter, Canada?"

The look in England and Japan's eyes told Canada two things: one) they didn't know he was there, and two) they didn't want him to tell France what was going on. Canada trembled as France placed a hand on his shoulder.

"Is something wrong, Matthew?"

Canada looked at his feet. "No… it's nothing."

France looked at England, to make sure Canada wasn't lying. England gave nothing away, waving for France to leave. France frowned as England looked back at Japan.

"So, in that case…" he said, the new tension in the air painfully apparent, "would you like a position like France's?"

France stiffened, hand tightening on Canada's shoulder. Japan glanced at the Frenchman.

"…No. Were I to join the British Empire, I would want better than France."

England looked taken aback. "_Better_?"

Japan nodded. "Also, I want Hong Kong."

For a moment, pure, unadulterated anger flashed across England's face. Canada thought he was going to hit Japan, but he seemed to compose himself.

"…We'll discuss it."

Japan glanced at England. "Good day then, England-san." The Asian man shuffled out the door and England shut it behind him.

"Like hell he's getting Hong Kong," England grumbled, before turning back to France and his son.

"England?" France asked warily. England didn't give away any emotions. He leaned against the door.

"Whose idea was it to play baseball?"

No one spoke for a second. France looked afraid. Canada gulped and raised his hand.

"Mine… Dad."

For a second, Canada thought England was going to hit him, but then England broke out into a smile and he walked over to hug Canada.

"You're so smart, Matthew!" he told his son, ruffling his blond hair, "He didn't even seem to be considering joining yesterday! Now we're talking conditions! I'm so proud of you! You're daddy's little boy!"

Canada felt a little sick.

Perhaps France could see Canada's discomfort, because he laid a hand on England's shoulder. "Arthur, I think Canada is tired."

England looked at France and let Canada go. "Alright." He nudged Canada toward France, "I trust you'll take care of him?"

France nodded and England headed toward the kitchen. France took Canada by the hand and led him upstairs.

"I'm not tired…." Canada mumbled.

"But you look sad," France said, "And I think you want to talk."

Canada glanced at France. The blue-eyed man always had a way of making Canada feel better. He gripped France's hand tighter as he led him into Canada's bedroom.

"…Papa?" Canada asked.

"Hnn?" France asked, sitting on Canada's – America's – bed, patting the patch next to him. Canada sat down, and looked up at France.

"…If something happens to Japan… or anyone… if Japan becomes part of the British Empire… will it be my fault?"

"What? Because you played a game with him?" France asked, ruffling Canada's hair, "Of course not. Japan's smart; he would always make the decision he felt was best for his people. Our little baseball game won't influence him."

Canada swallowed. France ran a hand through Canada's hair, and kissed his forehead.

"Get some rest, Canada. Everything will work out."

France stood up to leave. He turned his back on Canada, the younger blond staring at his feet. Canada coughed into his first.

"…Papa?"

France paused at the doorway. Canada looked up at his father, the Frenchman looking confused.

"…Yes, Matthew?"

"…Are you okay?"

England's words rang in Canada's ear: "_Would you like a position like France's?_" Surely England hadn't meant that he'd let Japan… _replace_ France… did he?

France stood still in the doorway, a faraway look in his blue eyes. He stared at the hockey posters on Canada's bedroom walls, walls that used to house America's cowboy posters. His silky hair hung in his face, like an attempt to mask the Frenchman's emotions. But Canada knew France… perhaps more than most… and he could tell that his father wasn't happy.

"…Papa?" Canada called out to France, who seemed to have gone off into his own little world.

"Hnn?" France asked, snapping back to reality. He smiled at Canada. "Yes. Papa's fine."

And with that lie, he left Canada alone in his – _Alfred's_ – room. He lay down on the bed, staring up at the ceiling. What was he supposed to do now?

The answer was obvious. Sleep.

(Author's Note: Story is not finished! And! *takes a breath* I'm SOOOOORRRYYYYYYYYY! I'm SORRY I took so long. I've been super BUSY! I've had camp, vacation, school… laziness, but that's not the point… and I just haven't gotten around to typing on this! I'm soooorryyyyy~~~~!

Another thing, I'm sorry all Scottish and Irish people… I did my best to replicate the accent. I probably failed. Very hard.

Another another thing. I no longer can how you phonetically spell "je t'aime." May we drop it and get on with our lives.

Next chapter we meet the Italy brothers. Hell yes~!

And **Canada-Chan**… please don't hit me with a hockey stick. I give you this niiiiiice, loooooong chapter as a gift.)

*Spain's and France's conversation, which is alternating between Spanish and French (I used an online translator for the French, and as for the Spanish… well, my beta reader and I both only know Mexican Spanish, not… Spanish from Spain. Don't kill me for inaccuracies.) Spain: "Francis, the kids need a good family. Your husband is very bad! Divorce him, Francis!" France: "I want to divorce him, but I cannot, Antonio…." Spain: "Yes, you can! Francis, you are strong! Divorce him! Soon!" France: "I shall divorce him! As soon as the fair time comes..." Spain: "_Now_, Francis!" France: "I cannot!"

**"Divorce him, divorce him, divorce him, divorce him…"

*** Spain: "I like you, France. You are my friend. I want to help you. Please consider it, Francis." France: "I'm sorry."

**** Do I, honest to god, actually have to explain "adios" to anyone? *sigh* I am a good person, and will put this down for the one person who doesn't know what that means: "good bye."

***** Bondage/Discipline Sadomasochism. A type of roleplay or lifestyle choice between two or more individuals who use their experiences of pain and power to create sexual tension, pleasure, and release. Basically, the Italies look very naughty.

****** The "Battle of France," also known as the "Fall of France," was the German invasion of France and the Low Countries, which ended the Phoney War. Axis victory. The French were horribly defeated, suffering tragic casualties, 10,000 taken prisoner, and were overrun quite literally in their sleep.

******* Hong Kong had belonged to Japan for a time. In the Battle of Hong Kong, Japan seized Hong Kong from England (1941). They held onto Hong Kong for years, until America dropped the atomic bomb on Hiroshima, the Soviet Union began their Manchurian Strategic Offensive Operation, and America dropped a second atomic bomb on Nagasaki, during WW2. This crippled the Japanese army and they finally surrendered. British control over Hong Kong was then restored. Your _welcome_, England; we are still very, very _sorry_, Japan.

******** I think everyone knows about 9/11, but for the random person who doesn't: The **September 11 attacks** (often referred to as **September 11th** or **9/11**) were a series of coordinated suicide attacks by al-Qaeda upon the United States on September 11, 2001. On that morning, 19 al-Qaeda terrorists hijacked four commercial passenger jet airliners. The hijackers intentionally crashed two of the airliners into the Twin Towers of the World Trade Center in New York City, killing everyone on board and many others working in the buildings. Both buildings collapsed within two hours, destroying nearby buildings and damaging others. Another crashed into the Pentagon. The last one didn't reach its target (Washington D.C.) and crashed into a field in Pennsylvania, because some of the passengers tried to take back control of the plane, bless them. The Twin Towers gets the most attention. There were no survivors on any of the flights.

********* A **yukata** is a casual summer kimono, usually made of cotton.

********** "Dou Je" means "Thank You" in Cantonese. To be specific, it means something more to the nature of "thanks for the present." Hey, my options were limited. I had to pick between "thanks for the present" and "thanks for the service." Let's just say Japan visiting is _like _a present.

*********** "Dō itashi mashite" means "you're welcome" in Japanese. "Nii-chan" means "brother."


	5. Chapter 5: Lady Midnight

Chapter Five: Lady Midnight

Canada was starting to come around sometime in the middle of the night. Perhaps it was because he went to bed early, or perhaps it was because his mind was anxious.

Or perhaps it was because it was July 4th – Alfred's birthday.

No matter the reason, Canada found himself groaning and grabbing for his glasses so he could check the time. He rolled over, squinting at the bedside table. He reached for the shadow of what could have been his glasses and stuck them on his face. The red numbers on his alarm clock blinked at him happily:

3:00am.

Canada groaned, rolling over. The pillow was nice and soft, and he might have lulled back to sleep if it weren't for a little furry body crawling into bed next to him.

"Canada?" Kumajirou's little voice asked, tiny white paws resting on Canada's side.

"Kanajiou?" Canada asked, mispronouncing his pet's name for the hundredth time. For once Kumajirou hadn't required Canada to tell him his name a thousand times before he stopped pretending not to know him. Maybe that was just another difference in this world.

"I hear a funny noise," Kumajirou complained. Canada smiled sadly.

"That's probably just America snori – erm… Sealand snoring."

Kumajirou cocked his head to the side. "'America'… You've been saying that in your sleep lately," Kumajirou got in Canada's lap, "What does it mean?"

Canada shook his head. "Nothing… Not anymore." Tears welled up in Canada's eyes again, and he tried to wipe them away. "It doesn't mean anything anymore."

Against his will, the rebellious tears dripped from his eyes into Kumajirou's fur. Canada held the bear to his chest, without saying a word.

"…There's that sound again," said Kumajirou.

And this time, Canada heard it, too.

It was quiet, like the soft thumping of feet. Was one of his siblings awake? No… it didn't seem to be coming from the hall….

"_Shh! Stop making so much goddamn noise! You wanna wake him up?"_ came a harsh, whispered voice from outside. Canada jumped, dropping Kumajirou. The polar bear rolled off the bed and hid under Canada's dresser. Canada reached for one of the hockey sticks mounted on the wall and stood up on his bed.

"_I'm trying, big brother,_" said a different voice, "_I'll be quiet."_

"_Shut the hell up, idiot!"_

Canada trembled, holding the hockey stick out in front of him. He could see a dark figure appear in the circular window on the far wall. A hand began pushing the window open and with a little creak, the window gave. A small figure stumbled into Canada's bedroom. Canada gasped.

"…_Italy?_" he said, barely a whisper.

The Italian looked up, rubbing his head, tears in his eyes. Romano appeared in the open window next, slipping inside the house with less clumsiness.

"_What the hell?"_ Romano whispered, "_I told you he'd wake up!_"

"I'm sorry big brother –"

"_Ssshhh!"_

Canada stared at the two, dumbstruck. The two were dressed just as indecently as in their photo. The younger Italian got off the floor, looking at Canada with those big brown eyes that never ceased looking innocent.

"He looks scared, brother – "

"_Of course he's damn scared_!" Romano snapped, "He knows what the hell we're here for, don't you, Daddy's boy? Now be a goddamn _dear_ and get in the goddamn _bag_."

Canada's mouth dropped to the floor. "What?"

Italy grinned. "We're going to make England let go of our Italian soldiers he's keeping hostage by giving him you."

Romano stepped on Italy's foot. "Shut _up_, Veneziano. Don't explain things to the goddamn _hostage_!"

With the volume they were whispering (and the Northern half of Italy wasn't even bothering to whisper), Canada was surprised no one heard them. And then Romano's sentence clicked with Canada.

"H-hostage?"

Romano glared at Canada, pulling a pistol from his… Canada didn't want to think about that part. He pointed the pistol at Canada, and Feliciano seemed to start panicking in silence.

"Do what we say, or I'll kill you."

Canada just stared at Romano. The older Italian cocked the gun, holding it firm. He jerked his head to the side.

"Get off the bed. Drop the… stick."

Canada hadn't meant to follow the Italian's orders – the very idea of Romano or Italy giving orders was silly to him – but he had shifted his stance a bit and slipped on the bed covers. He fell off the bed and his hockey stick flew up into the air, clattering back down to the floor a distance away from Canada. Romano cursed, holding the cocked gun to the side so he couldn't accidently shoot someone, and grabbed Canada by the arm. Italy took Canada's other arm helpfully.

It was this point that Canada finally – _finally _– processed what was happening to him. He struggled against the two itilies, trying to pull away from them.

"Let me go!"

"Feliciano!" Romano shouted, trying not to fire his gun (which would probably take out Canada's overhead light if it went off). Italy pulled a thing of duck tape from his coat pocket and slapped a bit of it over Canada's mouth, apologizing repeatedly. The two dragged his toward the circular window. Romano handed his gun to Italy and took over the job of holding Canada. He twisted the blonde's arms behind his back and held Canada out over the edge of the window.

Canada felt dizzy looking at the earth below. There were two grappling hook lines running down the side of the building, which explained how the Italies got in his house. Germany was below them, looking up with a very worried look on his face. Canada would be worried, too, if his kidnapping plan was dependent on Italy and Romano… and involved dropping someone out a two story window.

Which was exactly what Romano did. The older Italian kicked Canada in the back, sending the Canadian hurtling toward the ground. If it weren't for the duck tape over his mouth, the poor man would have been screaming. Instead, Canada had to settle for fearful tears dribbling upward from the drop, and praying that his death would be quick and painless.

Luckily for him, Germany was ready for him and caught him before Canada met an unsightly end on the pavement. The German looked down at Canada, an apologetic look in his steel blue eyes. Canada wilted in the man's strong arms, choosing to give up fighting them. He turned his attention up to his – Alfred's – bedroom window as the Italy brothers grabbed onto the ropes they'd climbed in with and slid down to the ground. When they landed, Romano quickly took his gun away from Italy and they both silently nodded to Germany.

Canada found himself tossed into the backseat of an Audi A6, Romano getting in next to him holding the gun to Canada's head. Italy jumped into the passenger's seat, Germany taking the wheel.

Germany cranked up the car and slammed on the accelerator. Italy screamed as the car shot forward. With a quick glance out the window, Canada could see he'd have to be desperate to try escaping at this point; he'd break a million bones in his body were he to jump from the car. The speed it was going at would make any car a deathtrap.

Romano pulled the gun away from Canada's head and rolled down the window. Canada wondered what he was doing for a minute, as Romano pointed the gun out it. The Italian used his other hand to place two finders over the hammer of the gun. He slowly pulled the trigger, looking a little on edge. Canada watching as he slowly walked the hammer back to its un-cocked position. *

Italy noticed what his brother was doing, too. "Hey! You finally got the hang of that! This is the first time it didn't go off!"

Romano withered at Italy's cheery reminder, and Canada felt very unsafe all of a sudden.

The car ride was very awkward, to say the least. Canada curled up in the back seat, wondering when his family would notice he was missing. He buried his face in his knees, not knowing what to do.

What a way to begin America's birthday.

Once the car came to a stop, after an hour of Italy playing inappropriately upbeat music on the radio, Germany looked in the backseat.

"You're Canada, correct?"

Canada looked up at Germany and nodded.

"Canada, I feel I must warn you that resistance is futile." Romano grabbed Canada's wrist and Germany continued, "You will come inside, sit on the couch, and stay there until negotiations are over and England swaps the Italian prisoners of war for you. After all the proceedings are over with, you may go home with your father. Is that understood?"

Canada nodded again. Italy was squirming around in his seat, asking Germany if he was proud of him. Germany waved the Italian away, unbuckling his seatbelt.

Romano kicked open his door and dragged Canada into the open air. Germany and Italy followed. Canada looked up at the immense building that was Germany's three-story house. Germany took Canada's arm from Romano and gently, yet firmly, held the blond, steering him into the house.

"Come on, now," Germany said gently, "Be good. I'll – "

"Whaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa!"

Loud crying came from someone inside the house. As the Italy brothers entered the house behind Germany and Canada, Romano groaned, closing the door.

"Spain's here? Let me guess… the bastard watched _Pan's Labyrinth_ again?"

Romano marched ahead of them and they followed the Southern half of Italy into the living room where, sure enough, Spain was curled on the couch with a movie on, crying his eyes out.

"Spain…" Romano said, sounding annoyed.

Spain looked up at saw Romano. "She… she's so young and cute… w-why did she have to die? Why'd he have to kill her? She's just a cute, cute little girl…." Spain began to sniff and sob some more. Romano shook his head, glaring at the credits playing on the television screen.

"Spain, stop watching that movie if it makes you cry –"

"She was so – sniff – young, and – sniff – innocent! Whyyyyyyyyyyyyy?" Spain cried some more, getting up and wrapping his arms around Romano. "Why is the world so cruel?"

Romano gritted his teeth. "Because _England's_ running it…."

Spain froze, arms tight around his young charge. He pulled back, still holding Romano and looked into the Italian's face. "…What have you done?"

Romano glanced behind himself at the three people in the hall. Spain's eyes trailed up to Italy, Germany and Canada and he looked like he was about to have a heart attack.

"C-C-_Canada_?" Spain spluttered, stepping away from the blond. He ran a hand through his curly hair, looking very flustered and scared. "No, no, no… this is not good. Romano! Why is he here… with duck tape on his mouth? Oh, _no_, Romano! Tell me you _didn't_!"

"The time to act is now!" Romano spat, "That bastard England has our soldiers! He will give them back to us if he wants his son!"

Spain looked near tears again. "You _can't_, Romano! This is going too far!"

"Too far?" Romano hissed, "Like he'd be one to say someone went _too far_…."

Spain looked at his ex-henchman, mouth a hard line. He shifted in a way that implied shame.

Canada looked at Spain pityingly. Romano approached the man who took care of him all those years ago (because no one could _raise_ Romano… Romano was the kind who raised himself). He took Antonio's hand and kissed the Spaniard's cheek.

"That bastard's going to get what's fucking coming to him…."

"Romano, I worry about you…."Spain's eyes looked sad as he held Romano's hand. He raised the younger nation's little fist and kissed his knuckles. "Take care of yourself…. I don't want you to end up like me."

Germany tugged on Canada's clothes, trying to get his attention, but the nation – er… British colony… ugh…. – was too wrapped up in the drama before him to notice. He also didn't notice the sound of Prussian boots hitting the steps in the basement all the way up to the first story landing.

"WHAT'S WRONG? WHO DIED?"

Prussia dashed into the room, white hair a mess, panting like he'd just run up a flight a steps… which he had. Well, Prussia was still living in Germany's basement….

"Gilbert…." Antonio muttered, "Ah… this is…."

Prussia wasn't stupid, unlike popular belief, and the situation was quickly understood. It was a little hard to miss a tall, blond man with duck tape on his mouth.

"…Oh, god, no…."

Germany didn't seem too surprised by his brother's appearance, or apparent shock/distaste for the situation. "Bruder, prepare a room for him…"**

Gilbert shook his head, pinching his nose. "Hold on, I might be having a heart attack…." Prussia leaned against the wall, a hand clutching his chest, "You… You… Oh, god, West…"

"Gilbert…." Ludwig said, sounding tired.

"You kidnapped him, didn't you?" As if he needed confirmation. Ludwig just nodded. Prussia took several deep breaths.

"…I'm calling France – "

"No you're not!" Romano shouted, making a dash for the phone. Prussia grabbed for it, but Lovino got there first, grabbing the phone off the receiver and holding it aloft. Now, Prussia was taller than Lovino, but when he made a grab for the phone in the Italian's hand, Romano leaned backward so much Gilbert was practically on top of him in a pretty risqué position, one for which Spain wasn't about to permit, particularly with his little Romano in that slutty outfit. The Spaniard grabbed his friend from behind and yanked him back; probably more roughly than he should have, but it was his Little Tomato Gilbert was straddling.

"Damn it, we have to call France!" Gilbert shouted, dangling in Antonio's arms, "I can't believe how irresponsible you lot are! When England finds out –"

"That's the point," Romano hissed stuffing the phone down his skin-tight shirt (which looked pretty odd); "He's going to return our soldiers to us for his beloved son."

"You're crazy!" Prussia shouted, trying to pull away from Spain, "He'll punish you! You mark my words, Romano!"

Spain stiffened, lip trembling. It was clear to Canada that Spain knew exactly what Prussia meant, and he wasn't about to let that happen. Canada tried to say something – _anything_ – to act as intermediary, but the duck tape prevented him from peacekeeping. This was distressing to Canada, as mediation was in his nature. Perhaps Germany could see Canada sudden distress, as he spoke up for Canada.

"Will all of you _shut up_?"

The arguing nations abruptly cut off, staring at Germany. Ludwig tried to calm himself, finding it rather difficult. Everyone stood still, except for Italy, who chose to get between Romano and Prussia. Canada had to say, that probably wasn't the best position to be in if Prussia got free….

To everyone's shock and surprise, the phone _rang_. Romano stood stock still, shocked, and didn't even react when Italy took the phone out from under the southern Italian's shirt. Italy, being Italy and just answering the phone whenever someone calls, clicked the accept call button and held it to his ear before anyone could react.

"Pronto! Sono Feliciano Vargas!" ***

Romano snapped out of his shock at this and reached for the phone, but Italy stepped out of Romano's reach. "Oh, hi Big Brother France!"

"Give me that phone, Feliciano!" Romano snapped at his younger brother. Italy pouted. He opened his mouth to say something, but Spain abruptly let go of Prussia and took the phone from Italy's hand.

"Francis?"

Germany had calmed himself and was now sighing, holding out his hand in a silent command for Spain to hand him the phone. Spain held up a hand as if to tell Germany 'One minute.'

"…Yes. No, no! …Yes… yes… I will… I'll see what I can do… I think Germany would like to have a word with you."

After a moment, Spain handed the phone to Germany, who hooked it between his ear and his shoulder. "Hallo, this is Germany. Is England home? …no? When will he be back? …Yes, this is about Canada."

Germany was quiet for a minute and Canada struggled in his grasp, wanting to talk to his father. Germany grunted.

"Is this line taped? …good. I don't want him to have any sense of security. No, we haven't hurt Canada and do not plan to. Though, if England were to disobey our demands, I can't promi –"

Prussia swiped the phone right from Germany's ear, and yelled into the receiver: "I won't let them hurt him! Don't worry! West wouldn't do that! It's all talk!"

"Gilbert!" Germany yelled at his older brother.

"I'll take good care of your son! I will! I promise! …No, I'm not going to do _that_! What kind of sick perv do you take me for? …WE'RE NOT DISCUSSING THAT! THAT WAS AN ENCLOSED INCIDENT! …SHUT UP, FRANCE!"

Germany let go of Canada, and ripped the phone from his brother's hand to talk to France and end the madness. Canada took the opportunity to rip the duck tape off his mouth. It hurt… a lot.

"Can I talk to him?"

Everyone paused. Germany hesitated before nodding.

"If you're so worried, here he is."

Germany handed the phone to Canada, giving his hostage a warning look. But Germany wasn't a bad guy; his fight was with England, not France.

"…Papa?"

"Oi, mon dieu, Canada! Are you alright?"

"Yes, Papa."

"Are you hurt?"

"No, Papa…."

Canada could hear the fuzzy sound of France sighing into the receiver. "Oh, Canada… Ooooh, Canada, this is bad… Don't worry! Prussia and Spain will take good care of you. I'd be a little watchful of Romano though…. He's quite the little firecracker."

Canada nodded, despite France not being able to see him. "Papa…."

"Italy's harmless. Don't worry about him. And Germany probably won't doing anything too – "

"_Papa_," Canada said firmly, "I'm fine. I'm not afraid."

"…You're not?"

"No."

"…But this is the first time you've been out of the house without England or me…."

Canada paused at this information. The _first time_?

You've got to be kidding him.

Canada covered his face with his free hand, tired of these little surprises. "Papa, I'm going to be fine."

Another sigh. "Oh, Canada, what are we going to do…? I suppose I have to tell your father…. This isn't going to go over well…. He's in a meeting of all things, and somehow I can't imagine he'll be in a good mood when he comes home….. Hunny, are you sure you're okay? You're not hurt, are you? You can tell me…."

"Non, je suis bien. Tout sera pas mal, Papa. Ne vous inquiétez pas de moi."****

There was silence on the other end for a minute. "…How's Prussia?"

"Eh? Prussia?"

"Oui."*****

"Ah… He seems… fine?" Canada said, glancing at Prussia, who seemed to be having a fit of some sort, tearing at his silvery locks.

"….Tell him I'm sorry, okay?"

Canada blinked. "…alright."

"Please, Canada… I mean it. Tell him I'm sorry."

There was another pause, until Canada finally said "Alright" again. Germany was making a motion like he wanted the phone back. Canada gulped. "Papa, I think Ludwig wants to speak with you some more."

There was static on the other line from a sigh. "Yes… I suppose he does. Hostage situation and all that…. You just behave Canada, and stick with Spain and Prussia. Alright, hun? You father and I will come get you soon enough… hopefully in the most peaceful manner we can."

"Yes, Papa." And then he handed the phone back to Germany, who took it into the other room. Prussia put an arm around Canada.

"I'll be damned if you get hurt, Canada. Literally. Whatever England could do to me, France would do tenfold if you got hurt. …You know, maybe I can just take you home, and – "

"Down stairs, in the basement, Prussia!" came Ludwig's voice, and Prussia visibly deflated. Romano cocked his gun again, threateningly, and Prussia laughed nervously.

"So, a room! Yes, you can share with me. Eh-heh…." He nudged Canada toward the basement door and Canada didn't resist. Romano looked like he was trying to un-cock his gun again.

Prussia closed the door, leading Canada down the steps. The sound of gunfire reached their ears, and Romano's loud cursing came next. Prussia sighed.

"Welcome to hell."

Canada looked at him for a moment. "….I think I just came from there…."

Prussia didn't reply. They hit the landing and he turned on a light. "This is my part of the house…." It looked like the room of someone who was living in his mother's basement. Posters of German men and women hung on the walls, a computer was giving off a soft glow from the corner, and various food wrappers littered the floor.

"You can have the bed, if you want," Prussia said, pointing out an unmade bed, "I'll take the couch."

He sat on this couch now – green, lumpy, and musty – and opened a bag of chips. Canada hesitantly moved forward, sitting down next to the man. Prussia offered him the bag. Canada took a chip and bit into it. …It tasted horrible.

It reminded him vaguely of America's favorite foods. Greasy, salty, totally not good for you… He continued to eat the chip, trying not to cry for the hundredth time in the past few days.

He failed.

"Woah!" Prussia said, startled. "Don't do that! Please! Everything will be fine!"

Canada didn't feel like everything would be fine. Because nothing would be fine ever again. Because Alfred was gone. Because he made Alfred go away.

"Al…" Canada choked through his sobbing, "I'm sorry… I'm so, so sorry…. Al…."

Prussia flailed for a second before putting an arm around Canada's shoulders. "Hey, hey, hey… Dude, I don't know what you're apologizing for, but nothing's your fault…. This is happening 'cause of your dad…."

Canada cried. "You don't under_stand_! He wouldn't be like this if it wasn't for me!" Canada sobbed, burying his face in Gilbert's shoulder. "_I_ made this happen. Everything would have been normal if I hadn't made that stupid wish….."

"….Can you, uh, start from the beginning?" Prussia asked helpfully.

And so Canada told him. Prussia's face contorted into confusion as the tale was told, and Canada was sure he saw an alarmed look appear every now and then, but the Prussian nodded and pretended to care.

"…..you think I'm crazy, don't you?"

"No!" Prussia said quickly, "No, no, no! I-I believe you! A twin brother, you say?"

"Yeah."

"And you wished he disappeared?"

"He was never born."

"Right…."

"You don't believe me."

"I do! Makes… uh… perfect sense."

Canada shook his head, curling up into a ball on the couch. "No… it doesn't. It doesn't make any sense at all."

Prussia bit his lip and gave the Canadian a gentle squeeze on the shoulder. "It's okay, dude. Relax. The awesome me's here to make all your nightmares go away!" he grinned and then the grin faded, "Well… until your dad comes to get you."

Canada looked at him. "….nightmare…"

Prussia nodded, smiling. "Yup! You just stop crying now, 'kay? I get enough of that from Feli…"

Canada nodded slowly, keeping an eye on the Prussian. Prussia patted him on the back. "Cheer up, dude."

Canada paused, thinking. He opened his mouth, taking Prussia's words into consideration, forming a sentence in his mind, when –

_Growl_.

Canada blushed. He hadn't had breakfast. His poor stomach was empty of any and all food products. Prussia burst into hysterical laughter at this natural bodily function, and clapped him on the shoulder. "Come on. You need breakfast, kiddo~!"

The Prussian grabbed him by the arm and made Canada stand up. The ugly couch groaned at the sudden absence of weight, dust flying into the air as the cushions sprung back up. Prussia dragged the younger boy up the stairs and banged on the door. "WEEEEEEEEEEEST! Kid's hungry!"

"Oh, really? Then he must eat, yes~?" asked the voice of Italy, bouncing over to the door and opening it before Germany could shout "DAMN IT ITALY! HE'S A CAPTIVE!"

Canada was shoved into the light by a suddenly happy Prussia. "What should we feed the little birdie? I know! Beer!"

"No, no, not for breakfast, Prussia~!" Italy chirped, enveloping Canada's arm in a hug, "Wine is for breakfast! And Pasta!"

"Pasta for breakfast? That's disgusting."

"B-but your food is always disgusting…."

"WHAT?"

"What are you both going on about?" Germany asked, twitching, "He's a _hostage_. He gets potatoes and bread down in the basement." The man had his hands on his hips and was sounding very much like an old school teacher scolding her students for not listening. He might as well have been that.

"Eeeeeeeew, you mean that crap you eat every day? Totally not awesome, West, he's a guest."

Germany flushed. "HE'S A HOSTAGE!"

Matthew mumbled something under his breath and all eyes turned to him.

"Sorry, birdie?" Prussia asked, "What was that?" Canada blushed.

"….what about pancakes?"

There came a moment of silence. Canada shuffled his feet as the others looked at him.

"….That sounds like a great idea!" Italy chirped, jumping up and down. "Ve~! I haven't had pancakes in a long time!"

Romano poked his head into the room. "What's this about pancakes?"

"Ve, we're having pancakes for breakfast, Lovino~! Just like what Grandpa Rome used to make~! Alita Docia!" ******

"Ah…. It's been a while since I've had that…" Romano seemed to be considering the food.

"It's a great idea!" Italy had decided.

"W-with maple syrup?" Canada offered as Germany tried to tell them that 'we do not serve hostages pancakes.'

"Ve? What's maple syrup, Canada?" Italy asked, cocking his head to the side. Canada's eyes lit up.

"It's a delicious syrup made from the sap of maple trees! Mama Native America taught me how to make it! She told me it was our secret, not even Alfred got the special lesson! Ah, it's great. It's sweet and very tasty…." Canada trailed off, mind years and years back, with the woman who helped raise Alfred and himself. Her beautiful smile, the way she laughed, and the feel of her strong hands as she held them in her arms….

"…Who is Alfred?" Germany asked Prussia. The albino jabbed the other in the ribs.

"I'll tell you later."

"Veeeee~! Sounds tasty! I'll go to the store and get some~!"

Germany was alarmed. "NOT IN THAT OUTFIT!"

After much scuffling, arguing, and Germany somehow ending up accompany Italy to the store, pancakes were somehow made and set out on the table. Canada, Italy, and Romano dug in almost immediately. Germany, Prussia, and Spain were a bit more hesitant.

"….What _is_ this, exactly?" Prussia asked, poking at it.

"Pancakes," was the unhelpful response from the three familiar with the food.

The trio of less-than-enthused breakfast companions picked up their forks and knives and cut off bits of maple drenched bread. Spain seemed to take to it with a content nod, though Germany almost immediately spit it out, deeming it too sweet.

….Prussia…

The albino's eyes lit up as his mouth curled around the pancake square on his fork. "…It's… delicious." Italy nodded rapidly and Canada grinned.

"I mean, it's, like, awesome delicious," he continued, taking more pancake for himself, "Like, completely and utterly awesome…." And he ate faster, devouring the syrupy meal. Canada laughed out loud, biting off another piece of pancake, grinning with his fork between his teeth. He watched the Prussian eat the breakfast item in a way too enthused manner.

"Germany~! Germany~! Eat your pancakes!" Italy said, having polished off his own food and was now jumping up and down next to Germany trying to make him eat the pancakes.

"No. It's too sweet."

"Pleeeeeeeeeeeeeease Germany! Please, please, please! It's very good!"

"No."

"_Please_!"

The two had their back-and-forth until Germany gave and ate more pancake. Spain insisted on feeding Romano part of his when the Southern Italian polished off his plate. Romano ate from the other's fork willingly, though he looked as if he didn't want to. But that was Romano. He always looked like he didn't want to.

Canada smiled at the group. They looked like one big, happy family sitting at the table bickering and playing like that. It reminded him of life in his own universe, where things were… if not perfect… happy... mostly.

Italy jumped on him, nuzzling the Canadian's neck, and Canada let himself laugh, pretending for just a moment that he was home.

Prussia grabbed him by the hand. "Birdie!"

Matthew looked up at Gilbert, looking confused. He blushed as the other squeezed his hand and leaned in close, two inches from his face. "W-what do you want?"

Gilbert gave him a very serious look. "Let's make pancakes together, Canada."

Canada blinked. "….huh?"

Prussia pulled Canada out of his chair, away from Italy, and pulled him to the stove. "Teach me how to make it! Teach me how to make it!" Ludwig was groaning at the prospect of eating the sugary mess every day for the rest of his life as Canada reached for a pan.

The rest of the make-shift family disappeared into different places of the house as the hours passed with Canada teaching Prussia via cooking a lifetime supply of pancakes… Prussia was sitting on the counter as Canada showed him for the hundredth time how not to burn a pancake. (Prussia's rejects were in the garbage can.)

"Dude," he said, sucking on a pink lollipop, "You're so awesomely good at this…. Who taught you to make pancakes?"

"Papa," Canada said, smiling, "Daddy tried to teach me first, but Papa had a _fit_ when he found out. Daddy's pancakes look like really big, black hockey pucks…." Canada trailed off, remembering that his 'Daddy' wasn't here anymore… only that pirate in his place. He trained his eyes on the pancakes, "I mean, it wasn't _that_ bad…. I used them for hockey practice later…."

Prussia slid off the counter, deciding to lean on it instead, licking at his lollipop. "Ah… Refreshing to hear about Mr. Monarchy acting like an actual parent…." he said, "Was this before or after he flogged you with his belt?"

Canada was quiet. He didn't know the answer to that.

As the silence stretched on, Prussia straightened up and sighed. "Aaah… look, I'm sorry. I just don't like that guy…."

Canada nodded.

"I mean, your dad's kind of a repressor, dictator, spawn of Satan…"

Canada nodded.

"Murderer, torturer, sadist, rapist, Devil incarnate…"

"Prussia…"

"Yeah?"

"I get it."

Prussia nodded, shuffling his feet awkwardly. Another silence hung in the air.

"Papa…."

Prussia looked up at Canada.

"…..Papa… says he's sorry."

Prussia blinked at Canada as the blond flipped the pancake. The albino smiled softly and put an arm around the Canadian. "You're an okay guy, you know that? Almost as awesome as me! Hey, I'll talk to your papa about letting you join the Awesome Trio."

"…..Wouldn't that make it an Awesome Quartet?"

"N-….. maybe."

Prussia grinned at him, and Canada cracked a smile.

Later that day, after they finished making pancakes and Prussia had taken them all, putting them in odd places around the house for him to eat later, Canada stood on the Germans' balcony. He looked over the landscape. Germany was a beautiful country. He was afraid it would be in ruin, but everything seemed calm and relaxed… at least for now.

"I see you have found my room."

Canada squeaked and turned around to find Ludwig staring at him with his hands on his hips. He laughed nervously. "Y-you're room?"

Ludwig pointed to a bed in the corner of the room Matthew hadn't even noticed when he came in. The room was so plain; he thought it was just another empty room.

"This is my room," Germany said, walking up next to Canada, "And this is my window. And this is my balcony. And oh look," he turned to Canada with a mock pleasantly surprised expression on his face, "there's my hostage."

Canada groaned. "I'm not trying to run away…"

"Of course you're not. England's you're father. That's like capturing a Russian soldier …."*******

"Hn…."

There was silence on the balcony for a moment, which seemed to happen whenever England was brought up in conversation. Germany looked over his country, a small smile on his face.

"…Prussia tells me you have a delusion about having a twin brother named Alfred."

Well, that was blunt. Canada flinched and shuffled his feet. "H-he said that….?"

"Well… perhaps not those exact words…" Canada slumped against the railing of the balcony, looking sorry for himself. Germany shuffled his feet awkwardly.

"…You know, Canada… it's perfectly normal for a child in a broken home to have a strong desire for love and attention and develop a psychological projection of those feelings into the form of an imaginary friend, often a fantastical tutelary. You probably grew out of this fantasy as years past, and are now experiencing a longing for your mock protector – your imaginary brother, Alphonse – "

"Alfred."

"Right. And have created a new delusion that Alfred was real and you somehow wished your brother away, also expressing a misdirected loathing of yourself by blaming yourself for the misdeeds of your father. Textbook."

Textbook was right. Ludwig obviously swallowed one. ********

Germany coughed and awkwardly put a hand on Canada's shoulder. "Perfectly normal Canada. And healthy. Not like what I did when things got out of hand."

Canada looked up at Germany. "You?"

Germany winced. "Do… do you remember World War II?"

"Who doesn't?" Canada said bluntly.

"Right…." Germany looked over his country, a sad look on his face, "Back then… I was in a dark place, Canada…. My people were dying…. We were murdering my own people…. I could feel it in my heart and bones…. Every night I heard their screaming…." He shuttered, "I felt… empty. My boss was a nut job from Austria's house with more screws loose than you could shake a stick at… but there was nothing I could do to oppose him."

Germany was quiet for a moment. Canada gently touched his arm, looking up at him. Ludwig looked down at the Canadian.

"I was in a bad place, Canada. I'd done bad things, not only to others but my own people… I couldn't take it. I had convinced myself I was having a nightmare and I just needed to wake up…." Germany shuttered, "It took five German soldiers to hold me down and take my gun away…."

Canada's eyes widened. "Y-you….?" Germany nodded.

"I tried to kill myself. Damn near broke Italy's heart…. But what could I do? I felt trapped. I didn't believe this was reality…." He trailed off. The German gave Matthew's shoulder a gentle squeeze.

"But we must preserver, am I right, my captive?"

Canada cracked a slight, awkward smile. "You can call me 'friend.'"

Germany coughed into his fist and patted Canada on the head. "We shall see… Captive."

Prussia suddenly wrapped his arms around Ludwig's neck. "Yo~ West~ You telling that depressing story? C'mon~! Let's go play some games with Mattie!"

"WE DO NOT PLAY GAMES WITH HOSTAGES!"

In the end, they played Mensch ärgere Dich nicht for the rest of the evening.*********

"Aw, man, Canada!" Prussia said, flopping down on the couch. "I don't think I've had this much fun in a while…."

Canada slid under the covers of the bed Prussia so kindly gave him. He looked up at the ceiling.

"Good night, Birdie…." Prussia yawned.

"….Good night, Gilbert…."

And Canada drifted off to sleep.

_Canada was leaning against his brother, about twelve-years-old physically, a book in his hand and Alfred's arms wrapped tightly around his waist as he looked over the Canadian's shoulders. _

"_What's that word?" he asked, pointing to a word on the page. _

"_Un cuiller, Alfred. It means, a spoon," Matthew rolled his eyes. Alfred rested his chin on his brother's shoulder, hugging him from behind as he stared at the book. _

"_What's that word mean?" _

"_Ronfler. It means to snore." _

"_And – "_

"_Alfred! Just learn French already…."_

"_Noooo…" Alfred whined, "French is haaaaaard." This earned another eye-roll from a certain Canadian. Kumajirou was snuggled up in Matthew's lap, snoring as the brothers read… or, rather, Matthew attempted to read, and Alfred asked annoying questions. _

"_Mattie…" Alfred mumbled as Canada reclined on the other, using him as a human pillow, "will you play with me?" _

"_Later. I'm reading." _

"_Mattie?" _

"_What?" _

_The American kissed the other's cheek, snuggling up to the Canadian. "I love you, bro~" _

_Matthew smiled. "Love you back, bro." _

"_Mattie…" _

"_Yeah?" _

"_I'll always protect you! Because I'm the hero, right?" _

_Matthew rolled his eyes. "Yeah, yeah, Alfred. You'll be my hero when you stop peeing on the toilet seat." _

"_God, Mattie, you're such a girl."_

"_You love me that way."_

"_I do…."_

_Matthew smiled up at Alfred and poked him on the nose. "Hey… We'll be together forever, right?" he asked him, looking up into Alfred's blue eyes. The American looked down at his brother, blinking. _

"'_Course Mattie! I'll be there for you, and you'll be there for me," he grinned, "Because that's what brother's do!"_

_Canada smiled, and snuggled into the other, resting his head on his shoulder and his lower back on the other's somewhat pudgy tummy. "Good." _

_Kumajirou snored loudly, yawning a bit as he shifted on Canada's lap. Canada scratched lightly behind the bear's fluffy white ear, but the snoring only seemed to get louder and louder. Why – _

Canada moaned and rolled over in bed, eyes squinting open. He grunted as Prussia's bedroom came into view. Gilbert was snoring loudly, stretched out on the couch. So it was a dream….

Or… or was it?

Canada looked around the dark, dreary, sorry excuse for a room. This wasn't right. His world was right. The world he shared with Alfred.

Canada blinked into the shadows, violet eyes shining in the darkness. He thought about what Ludwig had told him.

"…You were right," he said softly, "This isn't reality."

He slid out of bed softly, bare feet hitting the cold, stone floor. The white nightgown Prussia had given him fell about him, the hem fluttering around his ankles. (_Why_ the Prussian had given him – or for that matter, _owned_ – a gown when the man clearly slept in his Prussian-flag-boxers was beyond Matthew.)

Matthew walked forward as Gilbert gave a snort in his sleep. The Canadian stumbled over a stray _something_ on the floor; it was too dark to see what it was, and Canada suspected he didn't want to know what Gilbert left lying around his room.

The Canadian crept up the steps, the old wood creaking beneath his feet. He was slow in his ascent, floorboards moaning under his weight. He brushed his disheveled hair out of his face, reaching blindly for the brass doorknob when his head hit the door it belonged to. He turned the knob, poking his head into the first story landing.

The house was dark and quiet as he made his way through the kitchen and down the hall to the second flight of stairs. The moonlight from the window caught his face, pale and ghost-like.

His feet pattered up to the second story.

"Ve~! Ludwig!"

Canada stopped dead in his tracks when he heard Feliciano's voice. He was _awake_? At this hour? Canada pressed his back close against the wall, noticing where he was – outside Germany's bedroom.

"NNnn… Vhat is it, Italy?" Germany asked, German accent heavy in his groggy state. "Vhy aren't you in yer own bed?"

"I-I can't sleep….." Italy replied, sounding teary.

Canada's heart went out to little Italy. He was such a pure little heart, to get teary over something like not being able to sleep. Canada smiled. Alfred used to climb into his bed at night when they were little and cry over his latest –

"Nightmare?"

Italy made a whimpering noise of confirmation. "U-uh-huh! I-it was a scary nightmare, too! Germany and Japan didn't like me anymore, and they wanted me to go away, and, and…"

Canada smiled. Nightmare… huh…

He crept quietly past Germany's room and he found the stairs to the third floor. These were less worn and made less noise as he crept up them, obviously not being used nearly as much as the others. With each step, he could hear Alfred talking to him. _"I'll go up there Canada! Because I'm the hero! I'll chase away all the big bad Iggy monsters in the attic!" His own laughter…. "Alfred! Daddy says you'll fall on a nail if you go up there!" "I'll be fine!"_

Canada was smiling as his cold feet took each step at a time. _"Canada! Canada! Let's play!" _

"I'm coming, Al…." Matthew whispered, hand resting on the door at the top of these steps.

"_Mattie…. Mattie, please come back…."_

"I'm coming…." Matthew said simply, turning the door knob.

The steps had not led to the third floor, or the attic. Instead, the door opened up to the roof of the fantastic German building. Wind hit his face, blowing his gown and his hair.

Matthew walked forward, wrapping his arms around himself. It was cold, and his gown was thin. His teeth chattered. His feet shuffled forward, toward the edge of the roof.

"It's just a nightmare…." He mumbled to himself.

_Beep… beep… beep…_

He shook his head, covering his ears. "Just a nightmare…."

_Beep… beep… beep… beep beep beep beep beep…_

"A nightmare…" He took a deep breath, closing his eyes and hanging one foot off the edge of the roof, suspending it in the air for a moment.

_BeepBeepBeepBeepBeepBeep!_

"_Mattie?"_

Matthew smiled at his imagination. Ah… Alfred's voice…. He'd be able to hear it again soon, for real…

"_MATTIE?" _

Canada let his foot down on the air, as if he could walk on it, and let the other leave the safety of the roof.

"BIRDIE!"

Matthew's eyes shot open as a pair of strong arms wrapped themselves around his chest. His fall was interrupted before it hardly begun, and his lower back smashed into the side of the building. He was yanked back to the safety of the rooftop, scraping his back, and rolled onto his back, staring up into the red eyes of his savior.

"…..Gilbert."

**(Author Note: D-don't worry… the story is not over. I-I've just been very busy… As I'll be for a while. I will slowly, but surely, work on the next chapter. I promise! It'll exist! I refuse to abandon this story! You can count on me! So.. uh… happy new year. **

**For those who are confused… why yes. You did get a smidgen of a taste of how everyone is dealing without Canada. And yes. That was a heart monitor you heard. Muhahahahaha! **

**Actually, I had originally planned to leave off at a cliffy where Canada tried to jump, and then you don't find out Gil saves him until next chapter….. but that was too evil considering how slowly I've been updating. Consider yourselves lucky.**

**I hope it was long enough and interesting enough…. In other news, I've been reading "Colours" by Kitty29. It's awesome, and you have it to thank for what may be slight PruCan…. . It might entertain some of you while you wait for me to update. ^^;**

**And the title of this chapter comes from the song "Lady Midnight" by Tortoise and Hare. It was pretty much all I listened to writing that last scene.)**

* This is perhaps the most dangerous way of un-cocking a pistol. Do not try this at home. I didn't. I looked it up online. Some guns have a safety setting that will prevent the gun from firing and allow you to un-cock it; some have a specific un-cocking mechanism, but not all do. Romano's lacks these features for the sole purpose of making life difficult.

** "Bruder" = "Brother."

*** "Pronto!" is the way Italians answer their phone. It basically means "(I'm) ready (to talk)." "Sono Feliciano Vargas" means "I'm Feliciano Vargas."

**** "No, I am alright. Everything will be okay, Papa. Do not worry about me."

***** "Yes"

****** The earliest pancakes were created in Ancient Rome and were known as Alita Docia, Latin for "Another Sweet."

******* See Axis Powers Hetalia manga book 1 for joke reference

********No real science used, I just strung together pretty words. Also, no textbooks were harmed in the making of this fanfiction.

********* "Mensch ärgere Dich nicht" is one of the most popular German bored games. The name means "Human, don't get angry." The game was created in 1914 and since then more than 60 million copies have been sold. The rules are simple; up to four players try to move all of their four pieces from the Starting point to the Ending point by rolling dice. When one player lands on another's piece, however, the other player must go back to the beginning. It's easy to learn, fast to play, and can be enjoyed by all ages.


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